Empire of Starlight
by cariaudry
Summary: The war against Jonathan is well underway and in the middle of it all, Clary, Jace, Isabelle, and Alec retrieve the Cup, but at a price: Clary and Jace are trapped in Idris. Prisoners in a court full of demons, Clary and Jace soon discover their only hope of survival may rest in Jonathan's dark past, but finding the boy he once was might be more dangerous than they thought.
1. Opening Gambit

Opening Gambit

"How could you let them go? How could you think it would end well?"

Isabelle stared at Jocelyn, her mouth pressed into a firm line, her eyes raised defiantly, but inside, she was withering in pain and guilt. _She's certainly asking you a valid question. You thought it would be fun, you thought it would all go as planned, you thought no one would get hurt._

Jocelyn tossed her hands in the air and spun away. "What were you thinking, running off like that back to Idris? You knew Jonathan had an army of demons, and I suppose you thought you could just sneak past them all with your wiles and cunning."

_Well, we did get past them, didn't we?_ Isabelle thought, but it didn't assuage the knowledge that she left had left Clary and Jace behind.

"I should _never _have left you all unattended!" Jocelyn snarled, her eyes blazing. "Clary was always so headstrong, and Jace, he always wanted to go to war. I swear on the Angel that when I get them back in my hands I'm binding them to the house! I'll tie them down if I have to, I'll never let them leave again, I'll-I'll-" But what Jocelyn was going to do, she never said, because at that moment she dissolved into tears. It was as if all the strength left her then, and she collapsed limply against the table in the kitchen, heaving sobs as she fell.

"Jocelyn," Luke said in a strained voice, and he went swiftly to her side, pulling her up and helping her into a chair. "Jocelyn, take a deep breath, go on, breathe."

Jocelyn was beyond breaths, though, and she continued to draw rasping, painful breaths that didn't seem to reach her lungs. It sounded like she was gasping. "She-she's _gone, _Luke! My l-little baby!"

Luke brushed the hair back from her face, whispering softly in her ear. She was beyond consolation, though, and continued to cry for her daughter, her precious daughter. Standing opposite her, trying to hide in the shadows of the kitchen, was Isabelle. She looked immensely uncomfortable, having never seen Clary's mother so distraught. She had always thought that Jocelyn was beyond feeling, and to see such a powerful woman reduced to this brought on a fresh wave of shame.

_We were trying to help, _Isabelle thought miserably. _We just wanted the Cup_.

"How did this happen?" Luke asked sharply, drawing Isabelle's attention out of her thoughts. "How did you even get to Idris in the first place?"

Luke, for his part, didn't think accusing Isabelle or her brother of abandoning Clary and Jace was going to get them very far. He saw guilt etched in the lines of Isabelle's face, the bend of her shoulders, and then turn of her frown, and though he wanted to be furious for Clary, he knew that Isabelle felt terrible. Jocelyn looked up from her misery, curious.

_Why can't you just be happy we brought back the Cup? Can't you just stop looking at me like that, like I'm some monster? _Isabelle's lip trembled at the look of torment on Jocelyn's face.

Isabelle bit her lip to stop words from pouring out.

The return trip from Idris had been the worst week of Isabelle's life. She and Alec had fled the castle like the very hounds of hell were snapping at their heels-it was possible they really were. Down the stairs they went, tripping in their haste, pummeling servants out of the way in their fear. Alec practically knocked the door to the slaves' quarters off its hinges and they shot through the low-ceilinged room, ignoring the curious looks that were cast their way. Back through the garden door, up the stairs to the yards, and suddenly they were bounding across dark lawns, almost blind from the lack of starlight and moonlight. Isabelle had risked a glance back at the castle and she saw no pursuers; at that time, it hadn't even crossed her mind that Jace and Clary were holding off the demons and weren't going to be joining them. They launched themselves back onto the path that led to the river, and there were their horses, tossing their heads and snorting in the cold.

At this point, Isabelle fell prey to a sudden madness. Though she had seen Clary toss her brother down the stairwell, though she saw Jace throwing himself into battle, and though she heard Clary tell them to go on, she thought that maybe, just maybe, Clary and Jace had already planned an escape. Certainly, she had thought, Jace wasn't going to let Clary stay back with her monster of a brother. Surely, they had fought their way to freedom and were even now making their way to the river and the horses.

"Alec, we have to wait," she'd called as Alec pulled himself into the saddle. "Alec, wait!"

The look on Alec's face was one of cold, hardened shock. "Isabelle, get on the horse. We have to go, _now_!"

"We can't leave them!" Isabelle screamed, throwing her arms wide, the Cup glinting in her hands. "I'm not going to leave Clary behind with that monster. We just have to wait for them; they're fighting, they're coming back-"

"_Isabelle_!" Alec snarled, nudging his horse toward his sister. "They're _not _coming."

Isabelle's tossed her hair back in her anger and grabbed the reins of Alec's horse. "How could you say that? You know how good a fighter Jace is; a few demons aren't going to stop him!"

"It wasn't a few demons," Alec snapped, grabbing Isabelle's wrist. He forced her to look into his eyes and she saw nothing there but cold acceptance. "It was too many, Izzy, even for Jace and Clary. _They_ _are not coming_."

"But, but we can't leave them…" Isabelle stuttered, and her felt tears pooling in her eyes. "_I_ can't leave Clary and Jace."

"There's no point, Izzy," Alec murmured, and he leaned down so that his forehead rested against hers. "They're not going to escape."

Isabelle's head sank and tears dribbled out of her eyes. Slowly, she pulled herself into the saddle and tucked the Cup against her belly. Clary and Jace had sacrificed for this Cup, and now it seemed the only way to honor their memory was to keep the Cup safe. Alec drew alongside Isabelle and clasped her arm in a brave, endearing gesture, and she sniffled then kicked her horse, and the two set off. As they fled into the night, Isabelle looked back and saw the dark outline of the castle, and she made a promise to herself then that she was going to return someday, and she was going to free Clary and Jace.

Alec and Isabelle rode hard and fast, they barely slept, they barely ate, they barely did anything but ride. For a week they ran, and everywhere they went, there was the unspoken fear that Jonathan's demons would come upon them. Every dark shadow was suddenly a demon, every odd look cast their way was a possessed man. Back through the cities, back through the villages, back through the dead woods and into the boarders of Alicante. By the time they crested the steep hills that flanked the city, they were tired to their very bones.

Following the path they had taken, Isabelle and Alec found the entrance back to the underground city and down they went. As soon as they stumbled upon the street where they lived, they made for Magnus Bane. He met them at his door and drew them quickly inside. They saw the shadows under his eyes, and pallor of his cheeks, and they knew the battle, though obviously won, had gone hard. Magnus, though, didn't care. He saw the Cup, clutched in Isabelle's hand and reached for it, but she snatched it back, meeting his hungry, upturned eyes with her dark brown.

"Jace and Clary paid the ultimate price for this Cup, Magnus," she said in a soft, dangerous voice, "I hope you understand what this means to me."

Magnus's hand dropped as the full horror of what she said hit him, but he cleared his throat and took Isabelle's shoulder in a firm, warm grip. "Isabelle, I swear to you, that we will avenge Jace and Clary. I will help you avenge them."

Isabelle had given Magnus the Cup, he had ordered them to bed, and then vanished. A day later, when Isabelle woke up, Alec was gone, she had stumbled about aimlessly until Jocelyn threw open the door to the house. Not long after, Isabelle had been dragged along to the kitchen where Jocelyn had confronted her.

Now, Isabelle looked up, and she felt words surging up, and like a breath of air, they slipped out. "We just wanted to help."

Luke's face registered his shock, as he didn't think Isabelle would have replied at all. "You-you wanted to help what? Did you four go to kill Jonathan?"

_Magnus didn't tell them, _Isabelle realized, and she immediately knew that Magnus didn't admit to helping them escape. _You can't let them know he went directly against the Clave's orders. _"No, we went after the Cup."

"The _Cup_?" Jocelyn rasped, and her eyes were boring into Isabelle. "You went to Idris, risked your lives, all for the Cup?"

"With the Cup we can make an army to rival Jonathan's," Isabelle said quickly. "We can start changing humans into shadowhunters. This was the only option-"

"It was not the only option!" Jocelyn snapped back. "And it wasn't a decision for you four to make. You went on some wild goose chase and look where it's gotten us: Clary and Jace are in Jonathan's clutches."

Isabelle shook her head frantically, her eyes gleaming with a small sense of hope. "But, we _found _the Cup."

"What?" Luke said again, and his eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. "You found the Cup?"

"It was in Jonathan's rooms," Isabelle shrugged. "I found it, but when we tried to leave it triggered an alarm and we were set upon by demons. Clary forced us to go." Isabelle looked to Jocelyn now. "I was already in the servants' stair and Clary was right behind me, Alec and Jace holding them off, but then Clary pushed Alec in and locked the door with a rune. We couldn't go back."

"Why?" Jocelyn asked, her face registering all the hurt a mother felt at the betrayal of her daughter. "Why would she stay behind?"

Isabelle didn't want to say it, but Luke's eyes were already narrowed with understanding, and if she didn't, Jocelyn would figure it out on her own. "Jace…" she murmured. "Jace was holding off all the demons, and Clary didn't want to leave him. She knew that if she didn't stay to protect him Jonathan would have him killed. She stayed to defend him." Isabelle dropped her face again. "She stayed because she loved him."

Jocelyn turned away from Isabelle's resting her cheek against Luke's side; he rubbed her back comfortingly. "So," said Luke, "you said the Cup was retrieved? Then where is it?"

"I gave it to Magnus two days ago. I can only assume he's taken it to the Clave so it can be used." Isabelle watched another tear sliver down Jocelyn's cheek. "Clary wanted to find the Cup, she said it was the only way we could stop Jonathan. This was her plan, her dream, and that's why she wanted to see this through. I wanted to stay and help her, but she wouldn't let me. I figured…" Isabelle knew her words weren't helping Jocelyn. "I figured it was the only way I could honor hers and Jace's sacrifice. I brought the Cup back for them."

Luke and Jocelyn were silent for a time, considering this huge development. On the one hand, they certainly did have an enormous advantage over Jonathan now. The Cup would surely be used at once, and they could begin to rebuild their army. The last battle had been a hard one, and many lives had been lost; they had won, but the next few months would go hard for them without reinforcements. However, the loss of Clary and Jace was like a hole in their hearts. Jocelyn felt another few tears threaten to fall, but she pushed them back. She had cried enough that day.

"Did you see Jonathan?" Jocelyn asked, unable to help herself.

"No," Isabelle shook her head. "I saw some of his demons, but he must have been a long way off. I'm so sorry, Jocelyn."

"I am too," she said, and met Luke's eyes. "If Magnus took the Cup to the Clave, we'll be summoned shortly. What do we tell them?"

"I don't see how we have a choice," Luke said gently. "They're going to wonder how we got the Cup, and since we were all seen in the battle, you're going to have to tell them Jace and Clary went."

"Do we tell them they-they didn't come back?"

Luke bit his lip. "We'll have to. If not, the Clave would ask to speak to them, to interrogate them over the state of Idris."

"They can speak to me," said Isabelle, sounding braver than she felt. Jocelyn and Luke looked up at her, confusion written across their faces. "I rode through Idris, and I saw…things. Something has happened to the people of Idris, something bad. I'll tell them what I saw."

"They won't be interested in the word of a seventeen year old human," Luke said with a sad smile.

"Then they'll be interested in the word of a just-turned seventeen year old shadowhunter, won't they?" Isabelle said sharply, and her eyes glittered like ice. "I left my best friend behind with that _thing _we're fighting. If I could have fought, if I hadn't been so afraid of the demons, maybe I could have helped. Maybe Clary and Jace would be here if I had fought the demons too. I'm going to make it up to them."

"Isabelle-" Luke began, but Isabelle's hand cut him off.

"I made a vow, Luke," Isabelle said seriously. "While I ran away from that castle-leaving my friends behind-I swore I'd go back and free them. The only way that can happen is if I train to be a shadowhunter."

"I'm not sure they'll allow you." Luke didn't know how to tell Isabelle that they wanted trained men and women.

"Clary already taught me how to fight," Isabelle said swiftly. "I know how to handle myself around a knife."

Luke looked ready to argue the point more, but Jocelyn held up a hand and he fell silent. "We'll take her with us to the Clave, and we'll see what we see. They may want to speak to her, after all, only her and her brother has gone into the castle and survived to tell the tale."

"Clary isn't dead-"

"If she were lucky," said Jocelyn sternly, rising up, "she would be. I think Jonathan has designs for both Clary and Jace, and neither of them much good. All we can do now is act, and act swiftly."

* * *

Darkness pressed in, strangling hope and life swiftly and effectively. It seemed to stretch on endlessly like a void and no matter how much she strained, Clary couldn't pierce the dark. She stared out and watched the darkness coil and shift, making hideous shapes that taunted and mocked. She pressed back against the wall of the cell, taking a little comfort in the cold that shocked her to wakefulness, and she drew a deep breath.

"_Trouble sleeping?_" whispered a voice, slick like oil.

The breath Clary had in her lungs sputtered out like a deflated balloon. _Don't listen to it, don't listen to it; don't let it in!_

"_We're already in, princess, your fear lets us in…_"

_Be like stone. Be fearless, _Clary ordered herself.

"_Such fantasies, little princess, such games you play with yourself. But, soon, it'll be _his _games you play, and what games they are. You remember the games, don't you?"_

Clary clamped her eyes shut and tried to reach out to that place in her memories where she was safe. It was fraught with images of Jace holding her, kissing her, whispering in her ear. She saw also Isabelle and Alec and little Max, and she heard their voices, almost like music. She was safe there, protected by her love and happiness.

"_You try to hide, but you can't escape your past." _The voice was drawing nearer. "_You couldn't hide from it then, could you? All those nights he came for you, held you down, touched you, and you just laid there and took it all. Was it a sickness…?_"

She remembered the first night she and Jace danced in the court, and she felt that strange stirring of freedom she had never known. Jace was going to protect her, he was going to keep the darkness back. She had danced and danced and feared nothing-

"_A disgusting thing you must be, to enjoy the touch of your own brother. You know, secretly, you enjoyed it; you liked the feeling of being wanted, even if it was only for a whore's use. So afraid you were, of being completely unlovable that you allowed your brother his pleasures if just to know someone loved you._"

That night she and Jace had first made love. She had unburdened herself on him, and he hadn't flinched away from the truth. He had accepted everything about her completely, told her the one thing she wanted to know: it wasn't her fault. He had forgiven her and, later, taught her to love the way a man and woman were supposed to-

"_Your mother fled, left you, abandoned you, and who could blame her? There was nothing special about you, nothing beautiful or charming. She left you in a heartbeat, but not your brother…no, she loved him. She kept a locket of his hair tucked safe in her home. You were something worthless, but your brother was something worth having. He was loved-_"

"_Stop_!" Clary cried in a raspy voice, and she lurched up. "Just stop this!"

"Clary," Jace gasped, jerking awake from his troubled sleep. He grabbed her and pulled her back down by his side before the demons pressed in on them. "Clary, don't answer them, don't acknowledge them, don't let them know you're here."

Clary drew a deep, shuddering breath and pressed her face against Jace's rapidly rising and falling chest. "They said…_things_, Jace. Things they couldn't know unless-"

"They use your fear against you, Clary," he whispered, hearing the rattling, gasping breaths of demons nearby. "They can sense it, and they use it like a weapon. If you let yourself fear, you let them in."

Clary shuddered and her small hands scrabbled at Jace's shirt. He plucked her hands up and held them against his heart. "How long has it been, Jace?"

"A week, maybe a bit longer; it's hard to tell down here." Jace twisted about to look at the cell around him. There was no light, no window, no nothing to indicate the passage of time. "Sooner or later, he'll come for us."

Instinctively, Clary pushed closer into Jace and he could feel her shaking. "When he comes, Jace-"

"Don't think about it," he said swiftly, sensing where she was going. "Whatever happens, Clary, I'll be here. Besides, I'll always be with you and you with me," Jace added, and he brushed his finger over the rune he and Clary shared.

As if it sensed the presence of its compliment rune, Clary's rune flared to life. Jace lying at her side and staring in her eyes felt a burst of heat and his eyes were blinded for a fraction of a second. He was suddenly caught in an onslaught of memories, Clary's memories. He saw a lone manor house, perched on the top of a hill, grassy lawns sloping down to meet a sandy bank, and then a river. He saw a little girl, her red hair let loose, flying about as she ran, being chased by a young boy with white blond hair; the girl screamed in terror and excitement as the boy caught the hem of her dress and tugged her into the tall grass. He saw a tree, standing alone in the middle of a field of flowers.

Jace gasped, tearing himself out of the visions. _That's what it means to be bound completely_, he thought tiredly, _to know all there is to know, to see all there is to see._

"What's wrong?" Clary asked, watching the play of emotions across Jace's face. "What is it?"

"It's you, Clary," he chuckled a bit. "It's always you."

"I'm sorry," Clary whispered. "I'm sorry for what I did-"

"_Sorry_?" Jace rasped, his face showing every bit of surprise he felt. "How could you be sorry? You saved my life, Clary."

It was true that Clary had, for all intents and purposes, saved Jace's life. When Jonathan had arrived on the scene of their daring escape, Clary had stood before Jace fearlessly. He had slumped to the ground, overcome with the power of the rune and the emotions and memories washing over him. Jonathan had looked them over, eyeing the matching runes on Clary and Jace, and frowned.

"Welcome home, little sister, I've been waiting for you," he had said, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes.

Clary lifted her chin and drew herself up to her full height, short as it was. "Jonathan."

This seemed to have amused him, because his lip quirked up. "I must admit, Clarissa, you've led me on quite a hunt. Sent away from home into the wild, and then you give us all the slip and run off with a slave boy. It's very scandalous, you know."

Flushing, Clary said, "Jace isn't a slave."

"I _beg_ to differ," Jonathan said with a sneer. His eyes moved to Jace, now crouched behind Clary, glaring with all the strength he could muster. "Why, look at him, kneeling before his king; if that's not the mark of a slave, I don't know what is."

"You're not king," Jace had spat.

Jonathan's eyes glimmered furiously. "And you're hardly worth the breath you draw. Luckily, I'll soon end that as well." And he drew a short, wicked sharp dagger from his belt. He drew a step closer to Clary and waved it back and forth before her eyes. "Brave of you to return, Clary, and seek my mercy, but foolish to bring Jace with you. You should have known I'd kill him."

Clary, feeling much braver than she felt, slapped the knife out of her face. "You'll do no such thing. I've bound myself to Jace, my soul to his; any hurt you do him, I suffer too. If you kill Jace, I'll die with him."

"Liar," breathed Jonathan, and his face suddenly turned very ugly, covered in shadows. "There is no such rune."

"I've made one," Clary hissed back, and she drew a bit more courage from Jace. "Did you really think I would return with Jace without protecting him? I knew that if we were caught you would seek to kill him. Did you think I would sacrifice the man I love?"

Jonathan moved quick as silver, grabbing Jace's wrist and tugging him to his feet. Clary gave a furious cry and lunged and Jace fought back fiercely. However, Jonathan's court of demons moved in, hissing and spitting, and a few reached out to help Jonathan restrain them. Clary felt clawed hands wrap about her shoulders and arms, and Jace felt his legs wrapped in the horrible, grasping fingers of the living dead.

"My loyal followers," Jonathan said absently, his attention of Jace's rune.

His eyes raked the marked, going from Jace's to Clary's and back again. He poked it experimentally, as if it might burn him. When it didn't react, he withdrew a stele and flicked the edge over the rune; it remained unchanged. Furious, he dug his fingers into Jace's arm, eliciting a gasp from Clary. Her rune had suddenly flared up, flashing like a bolt of lightening, before dying back down. Jonathan bared his teeth in a snarl.

"I'll find a way around it," he promised to Clary, tossing Jace aside as if he didn't matter. "I swear it, Clarissa, I'll find a way to separate you two, and when I do, I'll have his throat."

"Never," Clary said through clenched teeth.

Jonathan took Clary's chin in his fingers, his grip painfully tight. "Be that as it may, I still have you, and there is still much I can do to your little lover. As much as it pains me to harm you, I fear I will have no choice. You've not been a very good girl, Clarissa."

Clary jerked her chin away. "I'm not your girl."

"Oh, but you are," Jonathan said softly back. "You've had your fun, but now you've come home to take up the place you've been groomed for all your life. Good of you, really."

Clary tugged mercilessly on the grasp of the demons, but she held fast. "Go to hell, Jonathan! I came back for-" Clary cut off sharply, realizing that Jonathan didn't know they'd taken the Cup. The longer he didn't know, the more time Isabelle and Alec had to escape. "-for your head."

Now, Jonathan smiled. "That went well, didn't it?"

"Perfectly according to plan," Clary said, matching Jonathan's smile with one of her own.

Something about her smug voice put Jonathan on edge, and he released his hold on her. His dark eyes surveyed both Jace and Clary, and a strange light came into his eyes; it was hungry and furious at once, like a starved animal. "Get them out of my sight! Take them down to the cellar and leave them in the care of our good comrades. Perhaps a week or so in the dark will take the edge off my dear sister's words, yes?" The demons hissed and cheered, their mouths opening wide like a snakes unhinging their jaws. Clary recoiled until she felt Jace behind her, and he wrapped an arm about her waist. Jonathan saw the movement and turned sharply toward the nearest demon. "_NOW_!"

The cheering stopped and a few demons came forward, snatching Clary and Jace up and dragging them out of Jonathan's sight. Shortly, after a bumpy escort, Jace and Clary were faced with the imposing darkness of the cellar. Clary, surrendering momentarily to fear, looked back, wondering if Jonathan were there, but he had gone. She and Jace had no choice. The hissing and snarling grew to a shriek and Clary and Jace were herded unceremoniously down to the cellar and tossed into a cell to await Jonathan's mercy.

"I brought you here," Clary whispered, and she glanced about as if expecting to see Jonathan emerge from the dark. "I brought you back into Jonathan's power, his mercy, as it were."

Jace chuckled darkly at the idea of Jonathan's mercy. "I'd rather be here in the dark with you, than alone in the sunlight. Besides, I'm not going to leave you in Jonathan's care."

"Isn't it the job of the brother to be skeptical of the husband?" asked a smooth, polite voice. A gasp escaped Clary's throat and Jace pulled her into the circle of his arms. Jonathan laughed softly. "Happy to see me, sister?"

Jace sat up, holding Clary against him. "We were just hoping you'd forget us down here."

Jonathan drew up to their cell and the frail light hit his face; he looked like he were made of all sharp planes and angles. "I could certainly forget _you_."

Clary sputtered and finally found her voice. "You'll do nothing of the sort; not while Jace and I are bound together."

"So you keep reminding me," Jonathan growled, sounding annoyed. "It's of little consequence, I'm more than happy to share."

Clary swallowed loudly and Jace sensed her mounting fear and disgust. "Unfortunately, I'm not. Why have you come?"

"What, I'm not allowed to visit my little sister and brother?" Jonathan smiled innocently. "I've come to see if you two are ready to behave yourselves and rejoin my court, or, if you'd prefer to sulk about in the dark."

Jace wanted to tell Jonathan off, but he and Clary were at risk of the shadow sickness again, and he already felt the shaking and fever coming on him. "It seems that no matter where we go, we'd be in the dark," said Jace evenly.

Jonathan shrugged. "If you'd rather stay down here-"

"Jonathan, stop this!" Clary snapped, and Jace was relieved because he knew it was going to take an effort to unbend his will enough to beg. "You know we can't stay down here much longer; you know what the shadow sickness is."

"Oh, that," Jonathan sneered. "A weakness of entirely _your _kind. How helpless you are in the face of the dark."

"Leave us down here then," Clary said sharply. "But it'll be you and yours who tend to us when you finally do decide to remove us."

"You're hardly in a place to bargain, Clarissa," Jonathan growled, but he wasn't in the mood to play nursemaid. "Luckily for the both of you, I've set aside the evening for diplomatic conversation; you two will be dining with me tonight." Clary relaxed just a little against Jace when Jonathan said _you two_. Jonathan cleared his throat, opening the door of their cell. "Hurry along now, shadowhunters, it'll take hours just to clean the filth off, and I can't abide anything rank."

Jace felt the last comment was directed at him, and, indeed, when he looked up, Jonathan's dark gaze was fixed on him. Whatever else he was, Jace was currently trapped in a very tight spot, and he wasn't sure if it wouldn't end with him right back where he'd started in Idris: Clary's pet slave and Jonathan's outlet.


	2. A Lovers Quarrel

A Lovers Quarrel 

"Jace, stay with me," Clary whispered as Jonathan led them up from the cellar and back into the castle. The moment the warmth touched Clary skin, a shudder raced up her spine and she stumbled. Jace caught her deftly, though he was looking pale and drawn himself. "Please, wherever he takes us, just stay with me."

"I'll stick like a bur," he said, and, as if to remind her that they were tied together he let a few emotions drift across their connection. _I'll never leave you, I'll never leave you, I'll never let you go._

Clary felt a spike of warmth shoot through her body, and then a humming in her body, like a hive of bees were alive inside her. She couldn't hear words, though she knew Jace was thinking them, but she felt the emotions, she felt the love. "Whatever he has planned, as long as we're together, it'll be alright."

Jonathan, who had been listening in on the heartfelt conversation, smirked a little. "Yes, my diabolical plan of forcing the two of you to have baths is all coming together. I really am a sadistic bastard, aren't I?"

Clary shot Jonathan a hard look, but just the sound of his smug voice seemed to draw what little breath she had. Jace cleared his throat. "Knowing you, yes."

"If you're afraid of baths, you really won't hold up in my court, slave," he said in an offhand manner, hoping to infuriate Jace.

Jace, though, was far more concerned with Clary than losing his temper with Jonathan. "I won't let you out of my sight."

Clary smiled faintly at Jace but also made a point of watching where Jonathan was taking them. She wanted to make sure she knew where they were going in case the chance for escape came. Jonathan, it seemed, was leading them back up to the wing that housed the royal family. When they mounted the last set of stairs, she swallowed loudly; he was taking them to the king's chambers. Her heart beat faster and she felt that urge to faint.

_He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't,_ she told herself firmly. _He doesn't want me anymore because I've been with Jace. _

Still, Jonathan took them to the large, double doors that opened into the antechamber of the king's private rooms. Clary drew to a shuddering halt when he threw open the doors and ushered them in. Jace walked into Clary, stumbled a bit from his on setting fever, and then grasped her shoulders in his hands.

"It'll be alright, Clary, I won't leave your side." Again, Jace tried to send his emotions across the connection that bound them; this time, though, he only sensed her raw fear.

Jonathan smiled like a wolf. "Yes, Clary, don't worry; everything will be alright."

Clary was shaking, Jace could feel her. She had reverted back to that dark place Jonathan and Valentine put her; she was trapped all over again. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her hair gently. "I'll hold you, I'll keep you safe; just take slow, easy steps, and it'll all be alright."

Clary nodded, but she was still reeling. Finally, after a few deep breaths, Clary took the first tentative steps into the antechamber; behind her, with his arms wrapped firmly about her waist, was Jace, and he was whispering a string of encouragements into her ear. Jonathan watched them, and he felt a tinge of annoyance that his sister was so terrified of him, and even more annoyance that Jace got to hold that way. With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed Clary's arm and jerked her into the room, slamming the door shut when Jace tumbled after her.

Clary screamed. "Let me go, let me go! Jace! _Let me go_!"

"Oh, for the love of-" Jonathan snapped, and he flung Clary aside so she tripped onto the couch before his fire. He pointed at Jace. "You, keep her under control, will you? I have business to attend to until this evening; I'll send a few maids in to fix you two up."

Jace stared back. "I'll not take orders from you."

"You will, Jace, because as of the moment you entered me kingdom, you are no longer a duke. I have removed your title and lands; you are a slave once more. And you know my attitude toward slaves."

Jace's lip curled. "I'm not a slave, since I'm married to your sister."

"You can stay married to her, personally, I don't care." Jonathan drew a step forward. "I have plans for my darling Clarissa, and they don't involve you. If she wants to keep a lover on the side, I'll allow her her dalliances."

_Dalliances? _"You're disgusting."

"Words mean little here," Jonathan said sweetly. "Go wash yourself, you smell." With those parting words, Jonathan winked at Clary, turned on his heel, and left the room with a yell for a maid.

As soon as he was gone, Jace rushed to Clary who was crumpled on the couch. She was staring at her hands, muttering under her breath, and she seemed very far away. Jace crouched before her, taking her hands gently and squeezing them. She didn't meet his gaze, just continued to stare in confusion at her palms. Jace reached up with one hand and brushed her very tangled hair off her face.

"Clary, Clary, look at me," he ordered softly. She swallowed and her eyes fluttered nervously. "_Look at me now._" The order registered on some deeper part of Clary and she glanced up. He took her cheeks and held them so she couldn't turn away. "I know you're scared, I know you're terrified, but you need to trust me. I _will_ take care of you, just do as I say."

Clary's mind was swirling in a torrent of horror. While she had been in the cellar, the fear of her brother had been at bay, mostly because the demons had been consuming her thoughts; she simply hadn't had the _ability _to think about Jonathan. Now, away from the oppressive silence, Jonathan could easily consume her thoughts. She felt like she were lost, and, desperately, she reached out for Jace through their connection. She could feel him like an anchor in her mind.

Jace reeled when he felt Clary touching his thoughts. The moment he felt contact, a gulf opened up and all he felt was confusing, listless horrors. It was as if he were wading through a river and the current was pulling him every way. It was like he couldn't focus on anything, only feel fear.

_Hold on to him, hold on to him and don't let go_, Clary ordered herself, and she clung to his presence.

"Now, Clary, get up and come with me to the bathroom," Jace said, flinching a bit from the pressure Clary was putting on his conscious. Clary stumbled up to her feet and took a firm grip on Jace; he led her to the bathroom, and then set her on a small stool while he went about finding towels and soap. The door creaked open and Clary glanced up, expecting the worst; what she saw was like a punch to the stomach.

"Jace," she gasped, and Jace turned to the door.

"_Aline_?" he asked, staring open-mouthed at the figure.

It was Aline, though the girl was almost unrecognizable now. It would have been more to the mark to say the thing before them was a used, worn doll that wore Aline's face. The girl was pitifully thin, so thin that the bones in her arms, legs, and wrist were visible and her belly was bloated like a balloon. Her skin, where it wasn't bruised purple and red or burned black, was sallow and stretched thin. Her fingers and toes-for she wore no shoes-were bent oddly, like they'd broken and re-healed. When she lifted her face in response to Jace, they saw that Aline's lips were cracked and bleeding, a few of her teeth were chipped, and her lank hair was overgrown in some places, torn out in others. But it was her eyes that were the worst; sunken into her face, they were empty and dark, like a void of all life. It looked as if someone had reached in and scooped out her insides.

Clary's fear for herself vanished in an instant and she stood shakily and lurched over to Aline. "Aline…by the Angel, what happened to you?"

Aline was silent a long while, but suddenly, she twisted her head sharply, and lifted her eyes slowly up to Clary's face. Her voice was nothing but a twisted gasping sound. "Master sent me for the princess."

"No, Aline, what happened?" Clary pressed, and she gently swept the girl's hair off her face. "Who did this to you?"

"I serve the Master, I serve him well…" she muttered like a prayer and then slapped Clary's hand away. "I serve him!" she shrieked, maddened, tearing at her hair.

"Aline!" Clary cried, but Jace moved forward. He drew the girl aside, into the weak light that penetrated the castle windows. She was muttering a string of prayers under her breath, broken now and then by _master_.

"Aline, Aline, do you remember me?" Jace asked kindly. "Do you remember when we served together?"

Aline's wide eyes were far away and it was a few minutes before she glanced up at Jace. She bit her lip. "Once upon a time, when the sun was bright…I remember a boy with gold hair and gold eyes."

"Yes, that was me," Jace encouraged, rubbing her shoulders. "I've come back, to help with the princess."

"I serve the princess now," Aline nodded furiously. "The Master said I do, he said I serve the princess."

"Yes, and I brought her here for you," Jace said kindly. "See, she's here, waiting for her bath. Princess?" Jace called, and Clary drew few steps closer. She caught Jace's eye and met Aline's gaze with her own warm look. "Princess, Aline is your new handmaid." _Some on, Clary, play along._

"Yes, of course," Clary said graciously, offering Aline a pretty smile. "Yes, Jonathan said this…he said he'd sent his most well-trained, most _worthy_, of his maids to serve me. I'm so pleased to see you, Aline."

Aline shuddered against Jace and then bent her back in what must have been an attempt at a bow. "I'm here for the princess."

"What would you like me to do, Aline?" Clary asked. "I trust your judgment, of course, in all matters concerning the court."

"A-a bath," Aline croaked. "I'm to give you a bath and make you ready for dinner. That's what Master says."

"A bath is lovely," Clary said and turned to go, but Aline scrambled over to her and began pulled at the sleeve of her shirt.

"No, no, no, you sit." Aline pointed to the stool where Clary had been. "I'll run the bath, get you ready."

When Clary opened her mouth to say it was unnecessary, Jace coughed loudly, drawing her attention; he shook his head minutely and Clary resigned herself to wait. Aline led Clary to the stool and then pushed Jace to join her. The two had to sit and watch while Aline puttered about, preparing the bath, adding salts and soaps, warming towels by the fire, and, finally, standing Clary up to get her undressed. Jace looked away but Clary didn't really care, it wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked before.

After, Aline helped Clary into the bath and began a vigorous wash. Clary sat silently by while Aline wet a rough sponge and scrubbed her skin raw, covered her hands in sweet smelling shampoo and then massaged into her hair, and finally, used her own, poorly broken fingers, to clean Clary's face. All the while, Jace watched Aline, wondering what nightmares Jonathan had unleashed on the poor girl to bring her so low; Jace could still remember the provocative, pretty girl he had first met.

When she was satisfied Clary was clean, Aline stood her up and draped her in a thick, warm towel. She led Clary to the stool where she set about rubbing her legs, feet, arms and shoulders with a flowery lotion. She meticulously clipped Clary's nails, brushed her teeth, and finally, took a pair of scissors and cut her messy hair into order.

_She's obsessed, _Clary observed, while Aline ran a comb through her clean locks. _She's obsessed with every detail of her charge. What madness has gotten into you?_

Finally, Aline wrapped Clary in a warm, silk robe and bid her sit let her feet soak in a small tub with warm, rose water. She turned to face Jace. "You, too," she ordered blankly.

Jace was not so well trained as Clary, and while Aline washed him, he tried to help. It upset the girl too much, though, and she was on the verge of a scream when Jace threw up his hands in surrender and allowed her to continue with her duties. When Jace, too, was cleaned and dried and wrapped in a robe, she bundled out of the room, whispering orders under her breath.

"What did Jonathan do to her?" Clary asked softly. "She's gone insane."

"I think she's scared out of her wits," Jace answered. "I don't think she's got any demons in her, but that only makes me wonder why she's still alive. The demons should have killed her by now."

"The Angel only knows why they kept her alive," Clary murmured.

"Sport," Jace replied, and his face was grim. It was entirely possible many slaves were spared just so the demons would have something to play with while they stewed in their human bodies. This, of course, unsettled Jace, as Jonathan had told him quite clearly he, too, was a slave. "They keep alive just to toy with her. It certainly worked."

Clary shuddered. "Do you think there is any way to fix her? Do you think if I feed her and heal her and-'

"I think the only thing that will help her now is days and days of sunlight," Jace said sadly. "She needs to leave this place, to find peace somewhere far away."

"Jonathan did this on purpose to punish me," Clary said angrily. "He's just trying to ruin everything and make me hate him."

"Guess that part worked," Jace shrugged and then took her hand. "This isn't forever, Clary, this darkness. It will pass. Alec and Isabelle took the Cup back to Alicante and the shadowhunters. Jonathan's days are numbered now."

Clary looked at Jace's hand in hers. "But how long can you and I wait? How long do we have before…before we're just like Aline?"

Jace bit his lip. "We have each other, each other's strength, each other's courage, and each other's love. It's more than anyone else here has, and it's what is going to get us through this." Jace kissed her firmly, as if to remind Clary he still loved her.

"Princess," Aline said, wandering back into the room. "I have your rooms ready and a dress laid out for your dinner. Please, follow me."

Clary stood. "My rooms? My _bedroom_?" Clary wondered aloud, thinking of the lavish rooms that had been Clary's home for years. They seemed like a distant memory now, a dream-or a nightmare.

"No, princess, the Queen's rooms, off the King's chamber," Aline murmured, and led Clary and Jace through the antechamber and to a small door near the study.

Clary knew the layout of her father's chamber rather well, since, as a child, she had been known to creep down the hall, past her nursemaids, and into the rooms, looking for her mother. Regularly, Jocelyn and Valentine would have shared a bed in the king's privy chamber, however, when diplomats were visiting, when Jocelyn was ill, when Valentine was away for war or political reasons, or, when Jocelyn was pregnant, she would retire to her own rooms. The queen's privy chamber attached to the antechamber by a single door that was connected to a very short hallway. At the end of this hallway was a set of double doors, and behind these, was the queen's privy chamber.

"I can't live here," Clary said at once, when Aline threw open the doors to the chamber. "I'm not the queen, I don't belong here."

It had been many years since Clary had set foot in these rooms, but time seemed to have had little effect. She suspected that her father might have kept the rooms tidy in that raw hope that Jocelyn would return, and so, they were styled after her mother's likes. The floors were stone, but they had been covered in thick, lush carpets. There was hearth with intricate patterns of blooming flowers and humming birds. Windows gave a stunning view of the back garden, though it was currently in disuse. And there was the bed, raised on a platform, and piled with fur blankets. About the room were strewn small testaments to Jocelyn's life: many books on art, medicine, and history, paintings and empty art books, lovely, handmade quilts, and not a small number of crushed flowers in water. It was truly beautiful, but altogether, too much for Clary.

"The queen lived here," Clary said blankly to Aline. "The king's wife. I was only ever the princess."

"The Master orders that you live here now, with your servant," Aline said simply.

"My servant?" Clary asked, and then her eyes widened when she realized she meant Jace. "No, no, Aline, I can't live here. I'm not the queen, I can't be the queen." It was hard for Clary to explain just how power came with the title of queen. She had grown up watching her mother order people about with her imperious looks and words, and she had learned that the most powerful woman in the land always held the name queen. Clary wasn't ready to be that powerful, she wasn't even ready for the name. "I'm not ready."

"The Master says you are, princess," Aline replied, and she gestured to the dressing screen. "Go and sit behind the screen while I find your clothing. You must look your best, it's what the Master said."

Clary paled and her hand reached out for Jace. "Come with me."

"Clary, I'll be right here, by the bed, changing into my own things." Jace smiled warmly at her. "I won't leave you, have no fear, little one."

"Jonathan can't mean this," Clary muttered in a lost kind of way, and then went to wait behind the dressing screen.

Aline came quickly, first to Jace with some fresh clothing, and he was annoyed to see that while it was made well, it didn't bear the status of a Duke. It was simple shirt and pants and coat, and Jace knew Jonathan was slighting him. Clary, however, was dressed in an intricate gown of burgundy and gold, with a daringly low top and a fitted bodice. While Aline fixed her hair into a simple knot, Jace flicked his eyes over her reflection.

"Jonathan's certainly giving himself a show," Jace growled finally. "I suppose if I'd seen you this way that day you came to the market, even I might have gone a bit slack-jawed." Clary smiled uncertainly and Jace frowned. "He's disgusting."

"I can bear his orders so long as they keep me with you," Clary said swiftly, and she cast a glance at herself in the mirror. She looked very different from the girl she had grown to know. For the last half-year, she had been allowed pants and shirts, her hair long and messy, and her face flushed a healthy, warm red. _This_ Clary, the one in the mirror, was pale and fragile, dressed in heavy, uncomfortable skirts, and groomed from toes to tail. She didn't like this Clary. "Alright, escort me to this damnable dinner," she growled, and Jace came and helped her to her feet.

It was an unsteady walk, as both Jace and Clary were sick with the beginnings of a fever and their sight was spinning. When they returned to the antechamber, Jonathan was waiting for them, smiling wolfishly. He watched them approach and, only when they stood directly before him, did he rise and gesture to the seats at his table.

"Look at you two, healthy as a plum," Jonathan sniggered, looking at Clary's very pale face. "Clarissa, would you like a seat? Jace, perhaps a crate? I don't know the etiquette for slaves."

Jace smirked. "I'll just take the seat."

Clary jerked her own chair out, shooting Jonathan a dark look. "Just serve the dinner, why don't you?"

"Hungry, sister?" Jonathan asked, admiring the glimmer in her eyes. She was obviously starving, but keeping the longing from her voice. "We're having roast duck with potatoes and boiled vegetables in garlic butter. I trust you remember the taste of such things after all those months among animals?"

"They're not animals," Clary snapped, but she could almost taste the duck.

"Dogs, then," Jonathan smirked, and then sat down, drawing Jace and Clary down with him. Jonathan took his time, pouring them each a glass of dark, red wine and then flattening his napkin on his lap. He brushed his hands off and then sipped the wine, coughed, and sipped again. Clary was growing impatient, but Jace was watching the other boy, wondering what was going through his head.

"Would you care to speak, brother, or have you had us washed, scrubbed, and clothed for a wine testing?" Clary finally said, exasperated.

Jonathan laughed genially. "No, no, I was just making sure the wine was up to standard. So, tell me, how have you found your new accommodations, sister? Are you comfortable? Are they up to your old standards?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "I don't want to live in Mother's room. She wouldn't like it if she knew."

"Good thing she's dead then, isn't it?" Jonathan observed, eyeing Clary over his glass of wine.

Clary opened her mouth to smartly reply that their mother was, in fact, very much alive, but a quick thought cut her off. _The less Jonathan knows about the shadowhunters and Alicante, the better. He doesn't know about the Cup yet, and he doesn't know about Isabelle and Alec escaping with a glimpse of his servants, and he _won't_ know about Mother. We have the upper hand and it's staying that way._

Quickly, Clary shot a look at Jace and he picked up on her emotional climate through the connection. "I'm not comfortable being in her rooms," said Clary finally. "I wouldn't mind my old rooms."

"Ah, well, I've given them away, so that would be quite impossible," Jonathan said with a small, sad smile.

"You can't give away the princess's rooms unless there's another princess," Jace said, eyes narrowing. "So, unless you've got a big surprise for us, I suggest you give them back."

"There is no princess," Jonathan sighed, rolling his eyes. "There's never going to be another princess again since I have no intention of giving up my throne. And, since that was the case, I saw fit to give the rooms to someone who needed them."

"Who?" Clary asked, disliking the thought of someone in her rooms.

"I believe they belong to the daughter of the honorable Duke Lewis." Jonathan grinned widely at the look on his sister's face. "She was overjoyed to have them, I assure you, Clary."

"What have you done to Simon's family?" Clary snarled, her fingers contracting around the knife in her hand.

"I gave them a dukedom," Jonathan answered simply.

"What else?"

"Ah, that," Jonathan said delicately, sipping his wine again. "Well, you can't be a member of my court without certain _personality traits_. It took a little convincing, a little encouragement, but I won them over." Jonathan pursed his lips. "The son, though, young Simon, he's gone. His mother tells me he ran off."

Clary tried to keep her face impassive. _The less he knows, the better_. "I hope he did."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed and he studied his sister's face. "I had wondered if perhaps you might have encountered dear Simon during your absence. He was so taken with you as a boy, after all, that perhaps he went to find you."

"If he was so taken with her," Jace said, speaking before Clary was forced to try and lie, "then I would have made of point of seeing him. As it is, I have yet to meet this Simon."

"You would have liked him," Jonathan snickered. "Not really your type, but certainly the kind of person I think you would enjoy tormenting, Jace. I certainly did," he added for Clary's benefit.

"You really are a monster," Clary said simply, and then sipped the wine. It was tart enough to clear her muddled thoughts. "Care to tell me what you did to Aline?"

Jonathan laughed. "You noticed that? I thought you would have approved of it; I seem to recall you being very cruel to her when she served out father. You don't think she's so much more bearable now?"

"I think you've all but murdered her," Clary whispered.

"Letting the demons have some fun?" Jace spat, slamming a hand down. "Can't kill all the humans or your followers get a bit bored, is that it?"

Jonathan's dark eyes leveled Jace with a contemplative look. "I need to keep my people happy. They enjoy a bit of…_sport_, every now and then. Are you offering, Jace?"

Jace bared his teeth in a snarl. "I'm not interested in your games. I had a taste of them last time I was here, and it's just not my cup of tea."

"But you don't even know what I've done," Jonathan said winningly. "Aren't you the least bit curious to know what became of the poor slave girl? How I gave her over to one of my lords…the fun they had-"

"Shut up!" Clary said in disgust.

"-he fed off her for a while, fed off her flesh, her blood, and, finally, her fear. It took a good bit of time for the last one. She was strong, he told me; she fought him till the very end, at least until he took her in hand-"

"Quit it!" Clary cut in, her eyes looking desperately to Jace.

"-must have been the longest night of her life, probably the best she's ever had, filthy, little human. Oh, yes, he made quite a good pet out her. I think I might have to ask just how he did it, too. I've got my own unruly lot." Jonathan's eyes darted with Jace playfully, but Clary had had enough.

She took the glass full of red wine and smashed it on the edge of the table. A waterfall of red poured onto the hard floor, pooling there and looking disturbingly like blood. "I said I stop it."

"Do you know how old that wine was?" Jonathan asked in surprise. "It was laid down by our great-grandfather."

"It just shows you care more about wine than people," Clary ground out.

"It just shows I care about the fine things in life," Jonathan countered and then cleared his throat. "But, honestly, Clary, the reason I've invited you and your…pet, is because I would like to discuss a few arrangements with you concerning your presence here."

_This is it, this is when he'll take Jace away from me_. Clary's heart fluttered

"I originally had no intention of letting this union between my sister and some slave continue, but, now that Clary has so quaintly tied herself to you, I find myself in a troublesome situation. So, I have had to reevaluate my plans for you two." His eyes landed on Jace since it was his fault Clary wasn't already in his arms. "I had, of course, meant to kill you, Jace, and then made Clary my queen, but now this seems impossible. Now, what do you propose I do?"

"Leave Jace and I alone?" Clary offered tartly.

"No," Jonathan answered at once. "No, I have better plans for you two. Since I simply cannot kill him, and I cannot torture poor Jace without causing _you_ undo harm, I have had to go about this a different way. I will not be killing little Jace."

_Not killing Jace?_ Clary's heart leapt.

"No, my dear, I would never kill the thing you love," he said gently, and then his eyes darted to Jace. "Even if it is this _thing_. However, I will not lose you to some boy; you're mine, Clary."

"I won't leave Jace." Clary lifted her chin.

Jonathan's eyes glimmered. "You will, Clary, because you will want to leave him. I'm going to make you love me."

"Never," Clary whispered, and she saw Jace's shock register.

"Oh, yes, you will. I'm going to make you want me, I'm going to make you leave Jace for me." Jonathan flicked his eyes over Jace. "You can keep him, Clary, keep your plaything, I don't care. Go ahead, have a lover. _But,_ he's not your husband anymore, which raises the question I've been wondering…What happened to your child?"

_What he doesn't know…_ "I lost the child. The journey killed it."

"Good," Jonathan sniffed. "Now, my dear, you and your little lover may finish the meal I've prepared and then retire to your rooms. Tomorrow, when you rise, I'll see you."

Clary and Jace were staring in horror at Jonathan, at his pleasantly smiling face, and Clary stuttered. "I-I won't let you do this."

Jonathan chuckled, rising up. "You _will_ love me, Clary. I will make you love me."


	3. Conclave

** Hello everyone! So, I just thought I'd let you all know that I'm back at my university and starting classes again. This _shouldn't_ effect the publishing of chapters here, but if it does, I should I only be off by a day or two. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and thanks for reading!**

Conclave 

Isabelle trembled as she stood before the imposing doors of the Clave. She looked up slowly from her seat on the carved stone bench upon the towering doors and swallowed. On the lintel of the door, an image of the Angel had been carved, in one hand, he held the Cup, in the other, a sword. Isabelle studied the Angel closely; his face was carved in a mask of vicious riotousness, and he gazed down upon the scene on the doors with bland contempt. She decided she didn't much like the look of the Angel. Below him, on the doors, was carved the image of a great lake, and rising from its depths were people, humans covered in the strange markings with swords in their hands. Isabelle suspected that these were the shadowhunters, rising up to meet their patron saint and maker. Below the shadowhunters, in the lake, sinking to the bottom was a strange array of shapes and figures, animals with ugly faces, men with fangs and claws: demons.

_Makes for a good bedtime story, that, _Isabelle thought while she fidgeted in her seat. _Hosts of hell spawn sinking below our great defenders feet, and all that stands between the shadowhunters and death is their markings._

Isabelle gave the door another glance and noticed that above the heads of the shadowhunters was written the words _Maximam gloriam in nobis non numquam cadere, sed surgere omni tempore declinemus_. Isabelle frowned. She had never been particularly literate until Clary had taken it upon herself to teach her, and, in the months that had followed her relocation to Alicante, she had learned a fair bit more. However, this was a language she didn't recognize.

Isabelle had been so engrossed with the carvings that she didn't hear the footsteps of Alec and Magnus approaching until they were right behind her. "Nervous, Izzy?" Alec asked as he settled down beside her.

"Maybe," she said indifferently, "but this is about much more than me being nervous. This is about our friends."

"Noble," Magnus sniffed, "but you'll find the Clave is not interested in your _friends_. All they want is your knowledge of Jonathan's army. It will be difficult for you to win them over for any other cause."

Isabelle tossed her hair back. "I won't tell them anything unless they agree to change me into a shadowhunter."

Magnus pressed his lips together. "Isabelle, being a shadowhunter is much more than having a weapon and fighting passionately for honor and glory. It is much more difficult and dangerous than that; there is so much you don't understand yet."

_So much you don't understand…_ "I know that I want Jonathan dead."

"That's your first mistake," Magnus said at once. "Whatever Valentine did to Jonathan, it wasn't the boy's fault. Valentine _made _Jonathan this way; you can't hold it against him."

"But, we can't fix Jonathan." Isabelle stood up, her cheeks flushed. "It's horrible what happened to him, and I know it's not his fault that he's this way, but he is."

Magnus opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment, the double doors opened and a single figure dressed in black appeared. It was a tall man with dark eyes and a hooked nose and severe face. "The Clave would like to hear from Alexander and Isabelle Lightwood."

Isabelle started to speak, but Magnus drew forward. "I've escorted the Lightwoods and would be present during their interrogation, Malachi."

"Bane," Malachi said with a slight sneer. "The Clave does not seek the assistance of a warlock."

"You did two weeks ago," Magnus said swiftly, smiling.

Malachi narrowed his eyes. "It's a simple interrogation, a few questions regarding what they saw while in Idris."

"I think it's best I'm there," said Magnus all the same. "After all, I have the most understanding of demons and their power to control minds. I also served in the palace and have some useful knowledge of my own."

"But-"

"I am a member of this governing body, Malachi," Magnus said sharply. "I have every right to be present when evidence is given."

It seemed like Magnus had given the other man reason to pause, and he seemed to be doing some quick thinking. Alec wondered if there really was some gulf between shadowhunters and Downworlders, and a small part of him was worried. Worried that if he somehow became a shadowhunter, he would have to hate Downworlders too.

_I can't hate Magnus,_ Alec thought. _He's been kinder to me than anyone else I've met, and he's so nice, so funny, so…_ Alec swallowed and shied away from the rest of the thought. Yes, he loved Magnus, and yes, he knew he shouldn't care, but he thought that a number of other people would.

"I want Magnus there," Isabelle said rather firmly, and Alec sighed in relief. "I'm not comfortable giving a testimony without someone I trust."

Malachi looked furious with Isabelle's demand, but he seemed a bit helpless to the situation. "Yes, fine then. Come on, you two." He waved Isabelle and Alec towards the doors, and Magnus trailed close behind them.

Isabelle drew a deep breath as the doors opened slowly and she reached out for Alec. Her fingers curled around his upper arm and she squeezed tightly. Isabelle and Alec glanced up and they saw the Angel glaring down on them, judging them; it was like having the eyes of god staring down on you, judging you.

_Know your sins, Mother used to say, and you're safe,_ Alec thought faintly, sensing Magnus behind him. _Well, I know mine, and it is _not_ a sin._

"Walk to the center of the room and stand quietly," Malachi ordered. Isabelle and Alec both drew deep breaths together and then moved into the room.

It was, for a moment, heart-stopping. The meeting hall of the Clave was a vast, arching, room of hewn stone. The room was lit by thousands and thousands of witch-light stones, casting their eerie glow on the room, but the light didn't reach the ceiling, which extended into darkness. Shadows danced on the floor, which was a beautiful smooth, mosaic of the Angel rising out of a glowing lake. A few steps in, and Alec and Isabelle saw the small, pale faces in the distance, like hundreds of stars winking out of the blankness at them. The two came slowly to the center of the room, standing on the lake, and looked about. Isabelle felt her heart lighten just a little at the sight of Jocelyn and Luke, and Magnus crossed the room and joined them.

"Isabelle and Alec Lightwood." They both jumped a little, breath catching in their throats, and turned to face the speaker. It was short, plump man, with bright eyes. He smiled when they looked at him, but there was an edge to it, like a snake. It didn't make either of the Lightwoods feel any warmer. "I am Consul Aldertree."

_Is that supposed to mean something to me?_ Isabelle thought frantically.

"One of our number came forward and told us you would like to make a statement about your explorations in Idris." Aldertree's eyes glimmered. "We were told you went to Idris with Mr. and Mrs. Herondale and infiltrated the fastness of Jonathan's castle. Is this true?"

_Is it true? No, I lied about it all, and the Cup I brought back was a fake._ Isabelle ground her teeth. She got the feeling that this Aldertree didn't believe them. "Yes."

"You were actually _in_ the castle?" Aldertree pressed, as if driving some point home.

Isabelle's eyes narrowed but it was Alec who answered. "We were in the palace of Idris."

"How did you come to be in that place?" Aldertree asked sharply.

"We left this city during the battle," Alec said simply. "The four of us traveled to Idris." Here, Alec gave a simple account of what they had seen of the country side, of the people and the land. More than one shadowhunter looked uncomfortable and worried.

"It sounds as if a poison has spread through the land with these demons," a shadowhunter said. "And what is this talk of the Great Goddess? Who do they refer to? It has always been the Angel we have believed in."

"Great Goddess?" Magnus asked sharply, and he his eyes darkened.

"Something you'd like to add, Bane?" Malachi asked, eyes dark.

Magnus waved a hand. "Nothing of any consequence," he muttered. "Please, continue."

Alec cleared his throat and continued. "After arriving at the castle we used servants' passages to enter the castle and-"

"How did you know about those?" Malachi asked quickly, his lips pressed in a line.

"We were servants in the palace," Isabelle answered, frowning. "Besides, Clary lived there all her life; she knew the passages as well."

"Of course," said Aldertree swiftly, smiling again. "Yes, of course. So you snuck into the castle using the passages you knew as a servant there, and then what?"

"We went to Jonathan's chambers," Isabelle said slowly. "Into his rooms. We tore the place apart looking for the Cup-"

"You were _in_ Jonathan's private chambers?" Malachi asked loudly, his face in a dark frown. "You were actually in his rooms?"

_What do you think I meant by it?_ Isabelle thought angrily. "I found the Cup in his bedroom."

"Ah, yes," said Aldertree, and he shot an angry look at Malachi. "You found the Cup." He gestured with his hand, and there it was, gleaming in all its glory, on a small, stone pedestal. "You found the Cup and brought it back to us; we're grateful."

"I suppose you're welcome," Isabelle said, shrugging. Her words elicited an angry murmuring, but Magnus, Jocelyn, and Luke smirked. "We found the Cup, but it was triggered with an alarm; Jonathan and his demons were upon us in minutes. Hundreds of them…" Isabelle shuddered.

"We've been wondering about that," Malachi said. "All the demons he has. Where are they coming from?"

"We don't know," Alec said softly. "We just barely saw them in the castle; they seemed to be possessing human bodies so they could travel by day."

"Human possession?" It was another shadowhunter, just one of hundreds. They stared at Alec and Isabelle with a slight sneer. "That doesn't make sense, demons _devour_ humans, they don't live in them, not for long periods of time, anyway."

"Now that's not completely true," Magnus said softly, his voice like a tinkling bell. "Demons have been known to possess human bodies for months on end to use the human as a type of skin. Who's to say that's not what happened here?"

"Bane," the shadowhunter sneered. "As much as we all hated Valentine, none of us could deny that he hated demons more than any of us. I do not think he would allow his son to study the Dark Arts; I do not think any shadowhunter would study-"

"Well, Jonathan did," Isabelle said stoutly, "because we saw the demons using human bodies. I saw a woman unhinge her jaw just like a huge snake, and she had fangs as long as knives."

Another shadowhunter raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Yes, but how is that possible? Demons do not obey shadowhunters; how could Jonathan keep the demons under control? Why would they serve him?"

_Because he's part demon himself. _"Maybe he's got a weapon or a spell that binds them to him?" Isabelle offered.

"Valentine was in possession of the Mortal Instruments," Luke said thoughtfully. "It's possible he performed the Conversion Ritual and was using them to control an army of demons."

This idea settled over the Clave uncomfortably and a few people nodded in consent. Aldertree, though, seemed ready to press on. "So, Jonathan has demons not just as an army, but as his fellows now. How is it, then, that you two humans escaped with the Cup in hand from an army of demons that can travel in the light of sun?"

Isabelle felt a familiar pain spring up in her chest. _This is where you make your case. _"Clary and Jace were with us, and…and when we were attacked by the demons, they stayed behind to hold them off while we escaped."

"The Herondales remained _behind_?" Aldertree said, clearly shocked.

"We didn't have a choice," Isabelle replied quickly. "Clary forced us to go back, and she locked the door behind us so we couldn't stay to help. She thought she was safer than we were."

"What's this?" Malachi snarled. "Two of our number was left behind in the hands of a demon master while the humans escaped?"

"She told us to go," Isabelle repeated.

"And you think they were safe?" Malachi asked sarcastically.

"Well," Isabelle said uncomfortably, and her eyes darted to Jocelyn; she bit her lips but nodded slightly. "Well, Clary is Jonathan's sister; there was a time, she said, when they were close, and she thought it better to stay behind and see if she couldn't reason with him."

Aldertree blinked slowly and looked to Jocelyn. "Is this true of your children, Jocelyn?"

"To the best of my knowledge," Jocelyn said softly, "yes, Clary and Jonathan got on well when they were young. Perhaps she thought she could convince him to end this."

"A hopeless endeavor, of course," said Aldertree quietly. "But so, they stayed behind? Even now, the Herondales are captive to Jonathan?"

"Unless they managed to escape," Isabelle whispered.

"A tragedy," Aldertree proclaimed, but he didn't sound very sad. "Truly, a tragedy. To have two our most precious, and most potential, soldiers taken from us is a loss. But it was all for a true cause, for their bravery and their daring, we now have the Cup. Their memory will live on. If only there were ever a way to reclaim the poor souls, but, seeing as we so pressed for soldiers, I do not see how-"

"A thought," Isabelle said quickly, before her courage failed her.

Aldertree, who had all but forgotten her now that the story was told, glanced back. "Yes, miss?"

"Now that you have the Cup, it is possible to make new shadowhunters," Isabelle said evenly, sensing the eyes of many others on her. "My brother, Alec, and I have done a bit of thinking, and we feel that the loss of Clary and Jace rests on our shoulders. We want to make right what we did wrong."

Aldertree leaned forward, resting his fat chin on his hands. "Do you?"

"We offer ourselves to the Clave, to be the first to test the Cup." Isabelle looked to Alec who nodded fervently. "Both of us have trained, and Alec has already served in this war, and so we thought we could be made into shadowhunters ourselves."

Isabelle's offer was met with a long moment of silence; maybe it was the surprise of having an offer, or maybe it was the indignation of the Clave at having a simple human girl offer her life to them, but they were quiet. After a few minutes, though, Jocelyn cleared her throat to speak.

"Ascension is a serious offer, and nothing to be taken lightly," she said firmly. "To become a shadowhunter is a perilous life, and one that puts your life before the lives of others."

"Will all due respect," Alec said, "it was Clary and Jace who put their lives before ours. It's time we paid them back."

Jocelyn bowed her head. "It is my family you seek to avenge, and so, I say yes to this." Jocelyn's proclamation was met with some nodding and some shaking.

It was Malachi who stood up, his eyes glowing angrily. "It is much you ask of us, and much we are not quite willing to give. After all, it was the shadowhunters who rose up, not the humans, to defend this world."

Magnus raised a hand, his eyes twinkled playfully. "To rise every time we fall, isn't that right?"

Malachi smiled grimly. "Perhaps, but rising is never easy."

"We won't know unless they're allowed to try," Jocelyn reminded, and her eyes were hard. "Besides, we are certainly in no position to turn away soldiers. Have you forgotten the last battle? We won, yes, but it was a close thing, and many were lost. We _need _more shadowhunters if we want to end this war."

Malachi looked ready to argue the point more, but Aldertree held up his hand, giving him a meaningful look. "The Clave will vote on the matter. All in favor of this Ascension, raise your hand now."

Isabelle and Alec looked about them though it was hard to count; first a few, then more and more…it had to be more than half. Isabelle's heart gave a lurch. _Let us do it! Let us save our friends!_ Almost all the hands in the room were up now, and, after a bitter glance about, Malachi lifted his as well.

"Well, I suppose that settles it," Aldertree said with a shrug. "Alexander and Isabelle Lightwood may join our ranks. It will take about three days for the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers to come together and prepare the necessary ceremonial equipment. Please return here in three days time for Ascension."

Isabelle breathed out in relief. "We will, thank you."

"Then you are dismissed, Lightwoods," Aldertree said with a wave.

Alec led Isabelle out of the room and the doors opened on their own accord; Isabelle wanted to go then and share the good news with Max and Simon, but Alec wanted to wait for Magnus. They sat on the stone bench, again staring at the large, imposing doors.

"It seemed like there was some disagreement between the Consul, the Inquisitor, and the rest of the Clave," Alec observed.

"A bit of enmity toward us, if you ask me," Isabelle said grumpily. "He treated us like we were lying the whole time! I mean, we _brought _him the Cup; where did he think we got it from?"

Alec smirked. "Yeah, well, Magnus seemed to shut him up."

Isabelle smiled. "What did he mean, do you think, when he said something about rising?"

"No clue, but it seemed to mean something to Aldertree and Malachi." Alec glanced at the door of the Angel again and felt a small leaf of trepidation unfurl in his stomach. "Do you think we're going to fight against demons once we're shadowhunters? Do you think we'll fight Jonathan?"

"I'd like to," Isabelle said in a low voice. "I want to teach that monster a lesson for what he did to our friends."

Alec took Isabelle's hands. "We'll do it, Isabelle, don't worry; we'll see him dead."

"Careful, Alec, what you say." It was Magnus, and he was just leaving the Clave. He flicked his gaze over Isabelle and Alec. "Jonathan is still a person, and who knows, maybe Clary really can reach him. We must keep hope for the boy."

"How can you say that?" Isabelle snarled. "After all the evil he's done-"

"He wasn't always that way, he changed," Magnus pointed out. "If' you're going to be a shadowhunter, Isabelle, you have to learn to recognize the light from the dark, and that's not as easy to do as you might think."

"Magnus, he's a murderer and a rapist," Isabelle said calmly, eyeing him with a bit of dislike. "I won't look over that."

"You can't be so quick to judge, that's all I'm saying," Magnus shrugged. "I'm sure you didn't like to be judged by Aldertree and Malachi."

"But that's different," Alec pointed out softly.

"Just remember it," Magnus suggested. "I don't care what Aldertree and Malachi might think, the Angel's words still count to me." He pointed to the phrase that was inscribed on the doors of the hall.

Isabelle squinted. "What does it say?"

"It's Latin," Magnus said. "It says, our greatest glory in not in falling, but in rising every time we fall."

Isabelle licked her lips. "I don't know if Jonathan can rise." There was a nagging doubt, though. _There is so much you don't understand…_

Clary sat still as a statue while Aline brushed her hair out. _He wants me to love him, he said he'd _make _me love him. Well, I won't! I'm in love with Jace, and nothing can change that, not even death. _Clary glanced down at the rune on her arm and felt that familiar warmth that was Jace's constant presence tingle up her arm. _There is nothing Jonathan can do that will make me forget Jace. _

"You should go to bed, mistress," Aline said in her dead voice. "You have an early start tomorrow; I'm to get you up and ready for breakfast with the king, and then it's out to the river for skating and the ice fair."

Clary pressed her lips into a firm, straight line. "And you'll be attending me, of course?"

Aline blinked and then shivered. "Oh no, mistress, not me; I don't belong among the court. I'm just a lowly servant."

"I'd like you to come," Clary pressed.

Aline's hand jerked and she tugged Clary's hair painfully. "N-n-no, mistress. I can't, please, I can't. Don't make me go, please. I-I-"

"It's okay, it's okay!" Clary said quickly, jumping to her feet and placing her hands on Aline's shoulders. "You can stay in my rooms, Aline, you can stay all day."

"Y-y-yes," Aline stuttered, and she picked up the brush she'd dropped and tried to brush Clary's hair while she was standing. "I'll stay here and look after things. I'll keep things clean. Yes, I'll stay."

Clary sat down and sighed. _I'm so sorry, Aline, for every mean thought I ever had for you. I'll make it up to you, I swear on the Angel I will._ Clary gave the other girl a stunning smile and gestured her to the small sitting area. "Would you like something to eat, Aline? Isabelle and I used to have such fun together at night; I'd order up some food: bread and cheese and soup and wine, and we'd sit and talk and tell stories until we both fell asleep…" Clary voice warbled off as she saw Aline staring at her in confusion. "Do you not remember Isabelle?"

"I remember a girl," Aline said distantly, like it was a struggle for her. She bit her lip nervously. "She was pretty and funny, and she had the biggest brown eyes I'd ever seen. She didn't think much of me."

Clary linked her arm through Aline's and led her slowly over to the chairs where they both plopped down on a couch. "No, she just didn't really know you that well, and-and-" Clary was thinking fast now, trying to make Aline feel better. "-And she thought you were infatuated with her brother. She's very overprotective of Alec, you know."

Aline's eyes widened in surprise. "Alec?"

"Isabelle's older brother," Clary supplied.

"Alec," she repeated, and then nodded as if it made sense. "I haven't seen him in so long, but if you want to see him, I'll go looking for you. He might be in the kitchens-"

"No, Aline, he's gone." Clary gave her a sweet laugh. "Me, Jace, Isabelle, Alec, Max, and Magnus all left a long time ago. I just came back."

"Came back?" Aline sniffed, and then looked down at her feet in her usual tired sort of way.

_Yes, but I certainly can't tell you; I'm sure your mind is laid bare to Jonathan and his demons._ "I missed home, you know, and all the friends I had. You've been so gracious to help me adjust."

"I serve the princess now," was Aline's answer and she jumped when a shadow crossed her line of vision.

"Jace," Clary said, shooting him a look under her lashes. "Have you had a look about?"

He gestured to the door. "It's open, but outside the main doors, in the halls, are two demon sentries."

"Did they try and hurt you?" Clary asked at once, her eyes scanning Jace; she hadn't felt anything, but that didn't mean much.  
"No," Jace shrugged, and fell into the seat opposite Clary and Aline. "No, they said I was to stay in the Queen's chambers, on orders of the King, but that the Lady Clary was more than free to come and go as she pleased. It appears your brother has given you free reign of the castle."

"I don't want it," Clary said back, frowning. "I'd prefer to be locked in a cell with just you than here in this room with all the food, and wine, and clothing I'd ever want."

"Well, Jonathan said you'd be spending the day with him," Jace said thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should try and use that time to explore the castle and the new ruling class. Look for a way out."

"The castle hasn't _changed_, Jace" Clary pointed out. "It's still the same structure, it's just been overrun with demons now."

"Then explore the demons themselves," Jace said quickly. "See if there's any discontent among the them, see if there are any weaknesses among them, see if you can't figure out what their next move is."

Clary pressed her lips into a tight line. "I don't think they'll tell me anything, Jace; I'm Jonathan's sister, not one of them."

"It's the best chance we have right now, besides…" Jace wandered off, his eyes dark. Clary felt an odd sensation run through her, like anger and worry and even a hint of fear.

"Besides what, Jace?"

He met her eyes. "Jonathan seems oddly attached to you, to the idea of _pleasing_ you. Think about it. I mean, he's letting me live because of you."

"He wanted to kill you!"

"No," Jace said slowly. "That's not what I mean. He _has _to keep me alive, but he doesn't have to let me live with you, share a bed with you, or even let me serve you. He could just have easily locked me up somewhere, or sent me away somewhere, or just given me different rooms to sleep in at night; instead, he puts me with you. Doesn't that seem a bit odd?"

"He thinks he can make me love him," Clary said softly. "He thinks that he can prove he's better than you. All Jonathan is doing by letting you stay here is saying that you're not a threat to him in any way."

Jace laughed. "I don't think he's quite so sure as that, but I think he wants you to believe that."

"Then what do you propose?"

Again, Clary got that odd wash of emotions. "Maybe you should play along a bit?"

"_What?_" Clary gasped, jumping to her feet. "I am _not _going to pretend to love-"

"I'm not saying that, Clary! By the Angel, do you think I'd let you?" Jace barked. "No, I mean, don't just turn him away at every turn, don't completely hate him."

_I don't completely hate him_, Clary reminded herself. _Because I know what he is now; I know what Valentine did to him_. "It's hard when I think of the things he's done-the things he _wants_ to do."

"The more we know, the better off we are," Jace murmured. "It can't hurt to start wheedling information out of him now. There's still so much we don't know."

Clary moved to Jace and curled up against him in the chair. She felt him run his hands through her hair and then rub her back, kissing the top of her head. "I afraid of him, Jace, because I don't know what he will do. I thought he was just a horrible person, but he's not, is he? He's a person, trapped inside a demon, and it's the demon I don't know. I _know _Jonathan…"

Jace lifted her chin up so she was looking him in the eyes. "Yes, Clary, you know Jonathan; you've told me stories about him when you were children, and I barely recognized that boy. But, I think that if we remember that somewhere deep inside that demon is _that _boy, there might still be hope. If you just keep thinking of the brother you used to have, not the one he is now, you might be able to reach him. He did love you, after all."

_Yes, Jonathan loved me; I was his little sister, his sweet, little sister, and I would have remained that way had I not turned away from him. _Clary's heart beat painfully. _I betrayed him, not him me. I swore to myself that I would help him, I swore that I would do whatever I could to make right what Valentine wronged…besides, I don't want to be afraid anymore, and this is the only way to end the darkness._

Jace kissed Clary's lips firmly, and all the fear and darkness left a moment. "But, Clary," he said against her lips, and his voice was deadly, "if Jonathan _touches _you, I don't care who he was. I won't rest until he's dead."

**Note: I'm not actually sure if my Latin translation was completely correct. I had to ask one of my friends taking a Latin course, but if anyone out there can translate and I did it wrong, send me a message and I can fix it!**


	4. Land of the Dead

Land of the Dead

"Wake up, princess, wake up."

_Oh, go away; leave me in my bed…_Clary rolled away from the voice and reached out for the thing nearest her. Though the rune binding them would have told her as much, she didn't need it to know that Jace was lying beside her, his arm draped about her waist as usual. She pressed herself a bit closer and he tightened his grip. _Just leave me here a bit longer._

"Princess, the King will be so furious if you don't take your breakfast with him," Aline whined, and Clary could sense her trepidation just through her voice. It wasn't fair to the poor girl to worry on her account.

"I'm up," Clary yawned, stretching all the way to her toes. "Jace, Jace wake up."

"Just because you have to be up early doesn't mean _I_ have to," he said into his pillow, but he was already wiping the sleep from his eyes. "However, I suppose I'll have to inspect you before you go off to meet the court. I can't have my wife walking around looking foolish."

It was meant to be a joke, but the prospect of meeting Jonathan and his court of demons set Clary on edge. She sat up and began to finger her long braid of hair Aline had spent so long on the night before. The ends began to fray and Aline tried to swat at her hand. "I'd be happier if you were with me."

Jace cupped Clary's chin in his. "I won't be far, Clary, just a moment away, besides," his hand dropped to the rune on her arm, "I'm never _really_ gone, am I? Now, this is our first chance to really get a good look at the demons Jonathan has summoned. Try to remember _everything_; any bit of information could be of use to us at this point. And, Jonathan-"

"You mean the demon using him?" Clary stressed. She had decided the night before that she would refuse to believe that Jonathan was completely consumed by his demon, and she kept reminding herself, and anyone else, that he was still in there.

"Yes," Jace said, "that. It can't hurt to have him sympathetic to us, can it? He's bound to let slip something about where his power is coming from. If we figure it out, we might be able to break the grip the demon has on Jonathan."

Clary squared her shoulders. "It won't be easy, Jace, he's too solitary, too introverted; Jonathan doesn't _need_ anyone to be happy. I don't know if I'll be able to draw anything out of him."

"You have to try," was all Jace said. "Clary, you're right. Your brother isn't that man, but he can't be free as long as a demon uses him. Try to reach out, past all the hate and bitterness he's thrown up, and get to _him_."

"I might need you," Clary whispered softly, and then swung her legs around the bed and stood.

Jace smiled at the image of Clary in her soft, white, semi-transparent nightgown; though he preferred her in her fighting gear, looking like a little lioness, sometimes he missed the softer Clary. "Good to know, because I'm not letting you go."

Clary winked at Jace over her shoulder. "Alright, Aline, can you make me presentable?"

Aline rushed Clary away to a dressing screen erected in the corner of the room while Jace lounged about. Clary rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, having forgotten what it was like to be so cared for and watched. When Aline returned with a expansive dress of grey with elaborate black silk designed into the bodice, hem and cuffs, Clary balked. The sheer weight of it had to be her body and then some.

"It's been awhile since I've worn anything so fine…" Clary hedged.

"It's cold out," Aline said simply, already tugging at Clary's nightgown. "You need something warm and flattering. Quickly, sit, while pin your hair."

Aline's style of service was much different from Isabelle's, even down to her sense of fashion. She was very exacting in all details, and favored practical things over flamboyant; Clary, at least, could appreciate that. However, when Aline had spent fifteen minutes pinning her hair into a very elaborate, very stylish bun, Clary felt herself losing patience.

"Perhaps the dress, Aline?" Clary asked as the girl fiddled with a few loose curls. "I really must be on time to my meal."

Aline dropped the pins she was still holding, recalling her orders. "Oh, yes, yes, my apologies, princess. Here, hurry now, into the dress."

Clary allowed Aline to pull the gown up and begin lacing it. _I hate corsets_, she thought as Aline pulled the strings so tight Clary gasped. _I could be bounded in this castle and count myself a queen of infinite space were it not that I have to wear this corset. _Clary giggled a bit to herself at the horrid parody. "Are we quite finished?"

"Just now, princess," Aline murmured, and finished the final bow.

When Clary reappeared, she smirked at Jace's very wide eyes. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Jace swallowed. It was like he was meeting her for the first time again, dressed in the finest fabrics, dripping in grandeur and excess; she had certainly become a princess again. However, when she smiled uncertainly, he saw the girl he loved. "Truthfully, I like the pants better."

Clary laughed softly and turned once. "Do I look lovely, husband? Will I astound even those revolting demons?"

"One can only hope." Jace rose and prowled forward, his eyes lazily stroking her as he approached. He pulled her roughly against him and kissed her fervently. "I really hate that you must go."

"I'll come back," Clary whispered.

"I'll be waiting," Jace said against her neck. "These lords and ladies aren't the only ones to get the pleasure of your company. I've my own pleasures to take, I assure you of that, lady wife."

"Then I look forward to it." Clary's voice sounded throaty to even her own ears, and she allowed the kiss to deepen; they would have stayed that way had not Aline interjected with an impertinent noise. "So be it. I'll be back as soon as Jonathan releases me."

"I'll be with you," said Jace listlessly. "I suppose until then I can just look about, maybe sleep a bit more."

"I'll have food sent up for both of you," Clary said contemplatively, eyeing Aline. "See if maybe you can get her to speak. There is much she might know."

"The company might do her a bit of good, too," Jace agreed. "Until the evening." Clary kissed his cheek once more than then turned and left.

It was the first time Clary had gone anywhere in the castle completely unescorted, and it was a bit thrilling. When she approached the doors that would allow her into the hall, she paused, waiting for someone to come and direct her, after a beat, she realized that Jonathan would probably have gone down and since he didn't need servants, why would she be given any? She tensed, gripping the door hard at the thought of the two demons standing guard on the other side, and she noticed belatedly that she didn't have any weapons.

_You're a better warrior than that, Clary; stop being a child. And besides, Jace is only a room away._ Clary lifted her chin and took a much deeper breath than necessary. _Jonathan isn't going to let them harm you, bear that in mind. _

It was a depressing thought, but one all the same. She threw open the doors and waited for the cackles or hissing or whatever noise demons made when a living creature was in their presence. She was greeted, though, with nothing but silence. Like a rabbit, Clary poked her head out and glanced either way quickly: there was no one there. Drawing another shuddering breath, she stepped into the hall, but she was quite alone.

_He leaves me to my own devices?_ Clary wondered. _That's rather trustworthy of him_.

She began the long journey down to the Great Hall where meals were served. As she went, she saw no one and nothing, and instead, noticed how little the castle had changed. All the paintings were still in the place, all the sculptures, even the rugs and wall hangings had remained the same. It was as if Jonathan had barely bothered to announce his rein and was just waiting for Valentine to return.

The longer she went alone, the more it disturbed Clary, though. Before, even though her father had been cruel, there could be heard voices and laughter, the footfalls of foolish girls and pompous men, the sound of life; now, there was simply silence. It was almost like the castle had not be claimed, simply emptied, abandoned. It was a dead place.

Clary picked up her pace, wishing she would meet _anyone_. It was then that she realized Jonathan's logic. _He's not being trustworthy; he's letting me know I can't escape. He's so sure of himself that he doesn't bother watching me, he thinks he's already won._

Clary finally arrived at the doors to the Great Hall, but even these were empty of guards or sentries. She stood before them, staring up at the doors she'd known all her life, and wanted to turn back. She wanted to run back to Jace, back to the protection he offered, but she glanced down at the rune on her arm, and, instead, reached out for him. Almost at once, Jace's presence engulfed her and she felt a few of the goosebumps on her arm vanish. She knew she had to go, she knew that her brother was in there somewhere and she was the only willing to help him, but it didn't make it any less terrifying. Daintily, Clary pressed on the door and it swung open on its own accord.

There was complete silence. It lasted for seconds, for almost a minute, and it was the most disturbing moment of Clary's life, the silence, and it kept going and going, stretching into nothingness. She stepped carefully into the hall, aware of hundreds of faces turned her way, and all of them looking at her with empty eyes. A few more steps, and still, there was silence, just the dead eyes watching her. Clary swallowed.

"Jonathan?" Clary called out. Her voice echoed all over the hall and she saw a few of the creatures flick their tongues out.

"Clarissa," Jonathan said, and she turned to see him standing before the throne. He was smiling widely. "My sister, the princess Clarissa."

At his announcement noise suddenly broke out. All over the hall was the hissing, spitting, snarling sounds of demons breaking out into conversation. Clary felt a shiver race up her spine and when she looked down at her arm, bumps were raised. They were all standing now, craning to get better looks at her, smiling so wide their jaws had unhinged. A few had forgotten that they were supposed to be people and long, fat, purple tongues hung out of their mouths.

Clary felt a wave of nausea hit her, but Jonathan was standing not far away, smirking victoriously down at her; _she needed to help him_. Pressing down all her terror and disgust, Clary lifted her chin and began the long walk across the hall, demon-people pressing closer. As she approached, Jonathan gave himself a little shake and brushed the sleeves of his jacket. When Clary stood before him, looking up with her fiery green eyes, he bowed.

"I am so pleased," Jonathan said to the crowd of on looking demons, "to have my dearest, most beautiful Clarissa returned to me." Clary noted that he didn't say she was his sister. "Stolen from my fastness in the dead of night by degenerates, and locked away among such monsters as the shadowhunters. But, she is here now, and I know we are all _so pleased _to have her back."

The demons banged the their fists on the tables, stamped their feet with more force than necessary, and a few jumped up and down, as if there was too much energy in their bodies and they were bursting with it. Clary wanted to flee, but the doors were too far away, and she was sure Jonathan would send someone after her; with no other option, Clary took a few uncertain steps toward Jonathan. His eyes glimmered, but she saw the smirk leave his face to be replaced by a more sympathetic look.

"I'm sure you will all do your best to make Clarissa feel at home again," Jonathan continued. "I, for one, am more than happy to indulge my princess. Clarissa, would you care to eat? We have been waiting."

Her mouth was dry so she licked her lips and Jonathan came down from the platform and bowed low. When he came up he winked cheekily at her, offering her his arm. "May I take you to your seat?"

_You need him on your side, you need him to like you._ Clary sank into an elegant curtsey and placed her fingers on the crook of his arm. "If you would be so kind."

"I will be kind to you, Clary, if you promise to be kind in return," he answered with a quick flash of his teeth.

_It's been too long since I've played these word games,_ Clary sighed to herself. "Kindness is relative, don't you think?"

Jonathan mulled it over while he took her to her chair. Like any gentlemen, he pulled it out, helped hit sit, and then pushed it in for her. He then took the seat directly to her left. When he sat, he cleared his throat and turned a look on her. "I suppose I shall have to be relatively better than, shan't I?"

Clary stared down at her plate. _Better than who?_ "One must always try to better oneself," Clary reasoned. Jonathan's dark eyes flickered and then he tossed his head back and laughed. It was a gesture so like her father that Clary flinched a bit.

"I am happy you are back, Clary," Jonathan pronounced, a few of the demons turning to him. "You will certainly _liven _things up, won't you?"

Clary was sure that was a taunt about the current state of the court, but she chose to ignore it, and instead looked about irritably. "Are we going to be eating this morning or just dining on pleasant conversation?"

"Both?" Jonathan offered, but then turned to the doors. Clary's eyes followed his and she saw that there was human there, an actual human, who nodded and left only to return a few minutes later carrying a single tray. It was piled with food, but there was no way it could have fed the court.

"Are we sharing?" Clary asked as the man placed a plate of eggs, salad, ham, and warmed bread before her.

Jonathan was already cutting his meat. "Sharing with whom?"

"Your lords and ladies," Clary said, looking about. The demon people were staring back at her with an unpleasant, hungry look. "They look like they could use a meal or two."

"Oh, no," Jonathan said softly. "They don't quite have the same diet you and I do; no, they will eat later when you're not here. I don't want to upset you."

_Upset me?_ "Well, I suppose I'm grateful for that, but still, they're looking at my plate rather…_keenly. _Are you sure they don't want to eat?"

This seemed to upset Jonathan, whose bright smile slipped; he slammed his hand on the table and the demons' attention was turned on him. "What type of proper folk do you call yourselves, watching Clary eat like starving dogs?"

Clary was shocked to see that the demons looked contrite, as if Jonathan's words really had bothered them. Many of them dropped their faces or looked elsewhere. _Why do they care what he says? As far as demons go, he's as much demon as they are, not any better. _Clary took a small bite from her eggs and they steamed pleasantly in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, sneaking peeks at Jonathan who was now eating grumpily. After a few moments of silence, Clary cleared her throat. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Jonathan asked suddenly, turning his face to her. He looked confused, even a little concerned, and Clary had a flashing image of her brother as he could have been.

Clary bit her lip. "Your de…_court_ seems quite taken with you; I don't think even father could have kept the lords in check so well."

"Do you really want to know?" Jonathan asked conspiratorially. He leaned in closer until Clary could feel the heat emanating from his body; she caught the faint scent of something like grass, fresh grass and wondered distantly where the grass was growing in this land. "The truth is…I'm naturally charismatic."

The breath left her quickly but she quirked her lips up. "Forgive me, I find it difficult to believe."

"Why?" Jonathan looked outraged, but she could tell it was all an act.

"I seem to recall a certain boy who used to steal my dolls unless I agreed to play with him," Clary chimed, returning to her food. "Not quite so charming then."

The memory of their shared time together, even though it was their childhood, pleased Jonathan. "And I recall that a certain boy never _once_ harmed a hair on the dolls heads."

"Yes, but that was _my _charisma at work then, not yours," Clary pointed out.

Jonathan chuckled. "Well, you're certainly charming enough. Tell me, did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes," said Clary emptily. _Be nice, be charming; remember, Jonathan is there somewhere. _"It's been quite some time since I've slept in a bed quite so large, or so comfortable. I almost forgot what down felt like."

"It must have been terrible for you," Jonathan said, mock seriously. "I can only imagine what trials you were faced with…building your own fires, I suppose, and having to wash your own laundry?"

"That's not the least of it," Clary smiled. _Get him into a good mood, get him to open up._ "Cooking my own food."

"Terminal Domestication, that's what it is," Jonathan said, nodding his head like it were horrible disease. "I'm afraid there's only one cure."

"Oh?" Clary batted her eyelashes. "Bed rest and cod liver oil?"

"Worse. Outdoor activities," Jonathan said and then grinned like a child. "I'm afraid you'll have to come out this afternoon for the ice fair."

As much as Clary wanted to go back to Jace, the thought of an ice fair woke a number of pleasant memories in her. It had been years since the winters were cold enough to freeze the river, but, she supposed the strange demon activity kept the land cold. Still, she couldn't deny that the idea of spending an afternoon skating, drinking hot, mulled wine, and watching ice carvers was intriguing.

_It can't hurt to play along, _she reasoned, but her mind did move back to Jace and Aline up in her rooms. "You're quite the physician," she said reasonably, "but I find I'm suffering one other symptom from my sickness."

"And what is it?" Jonathan asked.

"The wife in me, I'm afraid, can't allow Jace to go without food all day-" She saw Jonathan's eyes darken just a bit "-while I spend my _entire day_ out on the ice with you and your court."

The darkness left Jonathan's gaze. "Well, I won't have you worrying over something so meaningless; would you like to take leftovers up?"

_If I see Jace, I won't be able to leave his side._ "I'm the one whose suffering severe terminal domestication, I'm hardly in shape to go running up stairs. I think it's best that I get out as soon as I can."

"I couldn't agree more." Jonathan waved the man over again. "When we're done eating, take the leftover food up to the Queen's rooms and leave them there for the servants."

_I'm sorry, Jace_, she thought, but a pulsing heat from traveling up her arm from the rune; Jace was there, that's all that mattered, and he knew she loved him. "Thank you, Jonathan."

"Well, I must keep my little Clary happy," Jonathan said, but it seemed more about keeping him happy than her. "So, shall we finish our meal and head out?"

_No, no really we shouldn't. _"That sounds lovely."

Clary finished off her eggs and a bit of the bread before rising up; Jonathan came up with her and helped her out of her seat, taking a firm, reassuring grip on her arm. "Walk with me, Clarissa."

Though it had at first seemed a ridiculous thing to say, as she had no other option, Clary realized that at least ten of the demon people, four of them, female, had made to move toward him, and they shot her contemptuous looks from under lashes. Clary saw a woman's lips pull up like a dog, revealing inch long fangs; she pressed herself against Jonathan in shock.

"Something wrong?" he asked as he led her down from the table and across the hall.

"I don't think your court has taken quite kindly to my presence; I seem to have upset of few of the nobles." Clary glanced back and saw the demon woman was now a beautiful human again, flashing small, perfect white teeth. "Are you sure I'm quite safe?"

Jonathan looked down at her and offered her a very kind smile. "So long as you're with me, Clarissa, there's nothing for you to fear. Just stay by my side."

Clary wasn't sure she had a choice with the demons pressing in, so she nodded and allowed him to take her down the halls and toward the large doors that would open onto the garden. The first steps out onto the lawns woke a frantic energy in Clary, a desperation; she looked out and saw the river in the distance and knew it wouldn't be hard for her to run, to escape. It was the perfect opportunity for her to go, all she had to do was let Jonathan lead her down to the river and then ask to skate on her own. She could go, she could be long gone.

_You're not going to leave Jace behind, _she said to herself bitterly. _If you were gone, nothing would stop Jonathan from killing him. And you have to stay, you have to help Jonathan. _Still, Clary couldn't quite stop wondering if she could escape.

Jonathan made a gesture to someone behind them and another human servant came forward, offered Jonathan and Clary thick, fur cloaks, and then fell back. Jonathan turned Clary about and wrapped the cloak around her. As he tightened the clasp at her throat he said, "I don't want you catching cold; such a small thing, it would be so easy to lose you." Clary had been looking down at her feet in their shiny, warm boots, but when he said that, she looked up, searching his face for that smug victory she was so accustomed to. What she saw instead was a very real, very serious look. "You and I are the last, Clary. I don't want to be alone."

"The last of what?"

Jonathan's eye darkened. "Valentine's creations."

Before Clary could respond, Jonathan offered her his arm again and led her across the lawns. She saw that they seemed frozen in time, the grass covered in a fine dusting of white, the flowers that had shot forth were locked in the ice, even the delicate petals and leaves were locked in their wintery prison. Beneath her feet, snow and grass crunched loudly, and she shivered in the cold; in response, Jonathan only pulled her in closer. Soon, they stood before the river, frozen solid.

Just as Clary remembered, there were already men who had gone down and set up small carts to sell their wares to the lords and ladies, there were servants who were waiting on the side, warming up the water to make hot cocoa and mulled wine, and a thin, pale man who must have come from the city proper was there, boxes stacked before him. It was to this man that Jonathan drew Clary.

"I've sent for skates to be made for you, Clary," Jonathan explained. "We just need you try them on to know we've gotten the right size."

The man smiled at Clary, as if this must have been an exciting day for her, and then gestured her to sit on a small stool he brought while he carefully unwrapped his wares. Beautiful whale-bone skates were hidden inside the boxes, all in different sizes. He swiftly took Clary's boots off and began slipping her feet into skates. On the third try he got it right, and he laced them tightly, tying off big bows before he set to sharpening the bones one last time. He gave her feet a tender squeeze.

"A proper fit at last, milady," he said and then helped her to stand unsteadily on the thin skates. "If you would be so kind as to help her to ice, milord?" he asked Jonathan, handing Clary off to him.

"Careful there," Jonathan warned when Clary tipped against him, but he caught her deftly and helped her wobble over to the ice. "Now, go and play while I settle a few things," said Jonathan, releasing her onto the ice.

Clary wanted to stay and see if she couldn't figure out what things he wanted to settled, but Jonathan gave her a gentle push and she was soaring across the ice. When she was young, Jocelyn had taught her and Jonathan how to skate, and, her natural balance and grace attained from years of training, made her quite the accomplished skater. Before she really knew what she was doing, Clary began to skate in smaller and smaller circles, finally performing a few pirouettes, her skirts flying out around her. For a single moment, she felt that strange sensation where it was her own inertia sending her around and around and all she had to do was close her eyes and let her body go; she felt like she were flying.

"Bravo!" cried Jonathan from the shore, and Clary saw he wasn't wearing skates.

Clary glided over to him. "You're not skating?"

"Not today, I'm afraid," Jonathan said. "However, I am more than content to watch you. You're happy," he observed. "It makes me happy."

Clary frowned a bit; she had hoped to get him out on the ice and into her confidence. "Are you so sure? I know it's been a while, but I shan't make you look _too_ terrible compared to me."

Jonathan laughed. "No, Clary, not today, but go on, enjoy yourself."

_Well that's pointless, isn't it? _Still, Clary had no choice. She bowed carefully on the ice and then shot off, weaving between lords and ladies who had joined her. A few shot her nasty looks; clearly, even demons felt jealously that Clary was Jonathan's new favorite. She spent a pleasant afternoon spinning, jumping, and twirling about on the ice while Jonathan watched her every move. When she was tired, she returned to shore where Jonathan helped her back into boots. Afterward, a tent was erected and Clary sat beside Jonathan sipping warm wine while ice carvers came and made glorious sculptures of blocks of ice. As the sun began to sink, Clary felt a shiver race up her spine.

"You're cold," Jonathan said, staring at her face. "We'll go in now and have our dinner."

"We can stay-"

"That's unnecessary," Jonathan said indifferently. "I didn't bring the court down for their entertainment."

Jonathan brought Clary up to the castle and was going to lead her back to the Great Hall, but she paused uncertainly. "Don't I need to change? Father would have been mad if I went to dinner in my day things-"

"Father isn't king anymore," Jonathan said, and his voice was hard. "I am, and I say you can dine however you like."

Clary giggled sweetly and Jonathan smiled wider. "Such a reckless man."

"You couldn't even begin to guess," Jonathan said, and he led her in to eat.

Dinner was better than breakfast had been, mostly because Jonathan kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly concerning memories from their childhood. Though she was well aware of the demons all around her, Jonathan seemed to keep them at a bay, and she found it was comforting to be attached to the only living thing in the room, to be protected by the most powerful man in the land. When the meal ended, Jonathan called for music, and he led Clary out onto the floor; fleetingly, Clary wished it was Jace she was dancing with, but if Jace had been there, Jonathan would have been swift to turn nasty.

As night wore on, Clary danced, ate little bits, danced some more, drank wine, and kept dancing until the room was spinning. It was so unlike her father's court where there were rules and regulations, where there was structure. Jonathan's court was almost like madness, Clary thought; she could do or say anything and no one would stop her. At one point, Clary remembered loudly pointing out how unfashionable a woman's dress was, and Jonathan had roared with laughter, the court quickly echoing him. The wine had made Clary heady, and she felt a tingling in her fingers and toes, and she suddenly wanted to say and do all the things she'd never been allowed in court.

"Steady on," Jonathan warned when Clary stumbled against him in the midst of a song. The line of dancers behind her came to a tumbling halt and she burst out laughing. Jonathan escorted her from the dance floor and to a window where the cool breeze rustled her hair. "You look like you could use a long sleep."

"Another cup of wine, I think," Clary said, eyeing a goblet not far away.

"Too much of a good thing."

Clary shrugged, shaking her hair and watching loose tendrils fall into her face. "Well, you're the doctor. So be it, Jonathan, take me back to my room."

Jonathan raised one eyebrow but bowed and helped her up. "Play on!" Jonathan ordered as he helped Clary cross the room to the halls. The demons howled and Clary felt another shudder race up her spine at the sound of their voices.

"Why do you keep them?" Clary asked as Jonathan helped her along. "The demons, why do you keep them? You could have your own court, your own people. You don't need demons."

"They are my people, Clary," Jonathan said softly. "You'll understand one day."

Clary came a halt. "No, Jonathan, they're not. You're not a demon." She seemed adamant about this. "You're not a demon."

"I'm glad you think that," Jonathan said after a beat, and then he led her on. Clary watched the halls spin and the paintings blur as she passed. "Do you like it here?"

Clary was staring up at the intricate designs of the ceiling, spinning like shooting stars. "It's cold, Jonathan, but not in the way I remember."

"Well we can't live in the summer all the time," Jonathan reasoned.

"I can," said Clary with a lazy smile. "I can make anything I want. I can live in the light for the rest of my days. I think I'd like that…"

Jonathan looked down, smiling faintly, but not speaking. He eventually got her back to his rooms and pointed to the corridor that led back to her chambers. "Your room, milady."

Clary waved a finger at Jonathan. "You're being serious again."

"Maybe I am, but that's just who I am," Jonathan said, considering her. "We can't live in the light all the time."

_We can't live in the light…_ "We'll see," Clary said mysteriously, but Jonathan simple bowed to her and turned, leaving her standing before the doors to her rooms, quite alone.

Clary stumbled back into the sitting room, finding Jace lying on the couch before the fire, a book drooping in his grip. She staggered over to him, landing in a heap beside him; Jace jerked awake and was about to ask her how everything had gone when she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a very passionate kiss.

"Have you been drinking, Clary?" Jace asked, only half serious. That's rather unlady-like of you."

"Well, we can't live in the light all the time, can we?" she asked, and then promptly collapsed against him, asleep.


	5. So Human

So Human

"They're here! Simon, Simon, they're back!"

Isabelle heard Max's voice bouncing off the walls of Magnus's house and she sighed, rolling her eyes. _Anything for a good story, Max?_

"_Simon_!" Max cried, skidding to a halt before Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus. "Simon, come on, they won't tell us anything unless you're here too."

Alec reached down and scooped Max up. "We're not telling you anything anyway, Max, not until Jocelyn and Luke are here."

"But, what about the Clave and the Cup and becoming shadowhunters?" Max whined, his eyes getting round. "You do get to be shadowhunters, don't you?"

"All in good time, Max," Alec said as Simon came into view.

Simon's eyes glanced to Isabelle, searching. "It went well?"

"Well enough," she said conspicuously, well aware that Max was listening to her closely. "But, I'm famished, can we eat something?"

"I'll start something," Simon said, and they headed into the kitchen. Simon threw cold soup into a pot and stated a fire. "So, what was it like standing in that room with a bunch of shadowhunters?"

Isabelle met Alec's eyes and she saw the way Max was looking at her, eyes glowing and desperate. "Well, first, there were these huge doors, and they must have been twenty feet tall at least, with demons and angles carved all over them."

Max leaned closer. "Demons?"

"Yes," said Isabelle with big eyes. "Horrid beasts with horns and fangs and claws, and they were snarling and snapping, and that alone was enough to make me lose heart, but I had to think of Jace and Clary. But still, I didn't know if I could bring myself to pass those doors, but that's when Alec arrived."

Alec winked. "I was very brave of heart."

"With Alec at my side, I was fearless," continued Isabelle to Max how was now watching her like she were the only person in the room. "I thought to myself, 'we're Lightwoods, and Lightwoods are afraid of nothing; we served in Valentine's castle, and we crossed a country full of demons, and we met the Demon King himself and lived to tell the tale'. So, there we were, Alec and I, waiting to meet the Clave and then the doors _creaked _opened-"

"What happened?" Max pressed, looking between Alec and Isabelle. "What did you do next?"

"Picked up my skirts and ran," Isabelle said sarcastically. "Well, of course we went in, Max, and don't interrupt, you know better than that. So, the doors opened and all we could see was the blackness and shadows and we could hear nothing but the sound of our own hearts beating. It was like looking into a void in space.

"In we went, and we saw this _enormous _chamber, bigger than the Great Hall at the castle in Idris, bigger than anything you could imagine, with stone floors and walls and green lights all around, and when I tried to peer into the darkness, I saw hundreds of pale white faces. At first, I didn't think they could be people because they were so pale, but the closer I got, the more I could make out features, and then, I heard a voice-"

"Which is really where this conversation should end," said Jocelyn sharply, entering the kitchen with Luke at her side. "I'm sure Max is curious to know the inner workings of the Clave, but it's not something for children to hear."

"Max deserves to know what's happening," Isabelle said defensively, but she knew arguing with Jocelyn was pointless.

"Some things aren't meant for the ears of children," Jocelyn replied frostily.

"Well, it's not like he's not going to find out eventually," reasoned Alec. "Since we're going to be training now and much more involved in the war-"

"You get to drink from the Cup?" Max exploded. "You get to be shadowhunters?"

"Yes, Max," said Isabelle a faint smile. "Alec and I are going to train and then we're going to go back to Idris and save Clary and Jace."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Luke said softly. "The Clave isn't going to necessarily let you just march in the palace because you happen to have an emotional stake in the battle. You're both a bit young, and you'll be very undertrained."

"I went before," Isabelle said smartly. "So, what's going to stop me from marching off later if I feel like it? I'm telling you now, Jocelyn, no old man with more years than wrinkles is going to tell me I can't help my friends."

"He most certainly can if you're a shadowhunter, Isabelle," Luke replied, and his face was grave. "You've thrown yourself headfirst off the edge of an abyss, and you didn't bother looking to see if there was a ledge. The Clave is an army, Isabelle, and an army has rules and regulations."

"I'll obey their rules as long as they don't-"

"You'll obey their rules no matter what," Jocelyn snapped. "When you drink from the Cup, you swear an oath to the Clave, and in that oath, you swear your loyalty and obedience to their laws. You are bound by it."

Isabelle's cheeks flushed but Alec spoke before his sister yelled. "Well, what happens if we break our oaths?"

"You can be punished," Luke said. "Severely."

When Alec and Isabelle just looked confused, Jocelyn continued. "They can imprison you indefinitely, banish you, kill you, or even strip away your runes, and among the Clave, there is nothing worse than to have your runes removed. It is to live a life of shame and loneliness."

"Well, what about Jace and Clary?" Alec asked. "Didn't they disobey the Clave by going to Idris?"

"Yes," answered Jocelyn, dropping her eyes. "Yes, they did, and when this is all over, the Clave may choose to punish them. I hope they do not, but they have the power to do just that."

"How can you let them?" Isabelle gasped.

"It's the law, and we abide by the law," she said softly. "_You_ must abide by the law, too, if you want to help Clary and Jace at all. Remember that before you drink from the Cup."

Alec placed a hand on Isabelle's shoulder, stopping her from saying anything else; it seemed like both Jocelyn and Luke were set on the point too. Magnus, who had remained mostly quiet, through the small argument spoke then, hoping to keep Isabelle's temper from flaring up again.

"Regardless, I think we can count this meeting quite a success, don't you think? The Clave is going to go through with the Ascension, and is beginning a new campaign to sign on more humans willing to convert."

"They didn't have a choice," Luke said gruffly. "Jonathan's army nearly did us in there; it was only quick work from your folk, Magnus, that saw us through to the day."

"Was it that bad?" Alec asked.

"It was an army of demons," said Jocelyn as if this should be obvious. "Demons have never banded together to fight as one force in history; we weren't prepared for it. Our fighting style isn't conducive to battle field charges."

"Suppose that'll change?" Simon asked, stirring the soup one more time before reaching for bowls. "I mean, the Clave isn't going to stick with it?"

"Not necessarily," Luke sighed. "They're hoping this army was the bulk of Jonathan's force and that he's mostly defenseless. They're wondering if maybe in the next month or so they can march into Idris and lay siege to the castle."

"It won't work," Isabelle said at once. "You told them that, didn't you? If Jonathan is summoning these demons with the sword, and if they are obeying him because he's part demon, more will come."

"We're doing everything we can to stop the Clave marching off to their death," was all Jocelyn would say. "Simon, can I have some of that? I haven't eaten all day."

Simon ladled out runny soup and passed bowls around, they ate quickly in contemplative silence. "Does the Clave think Clary and Jace are going to stop him?" Simon asked, breaking the silence.

Jocelyn turned her face away, and Luke gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "As far the Clave is concerned, Clary and Jace have forsaken their lives for the cause. You heard them at the meeting today, it sounded like Aldertree was giving a eulogy. No, I do not think the Clave is putting any stock by them."

"I am," said Simon. "I know Clary, and I know there's nothing she wouldn't do, nothing she isn't capable of, and…I suppose Jace is quite able himself."

"It's something to consider," Luke agreed. "For now, though, we're going to have to operate under the idea that Clary and Jace are alive, but Jonathan's prisoners, and that we're fighting this war alone."

_We're not alone,_ Isabelle thought. _Clary and Jace are there now, trying to find a way to stop Jonathan. _"I'm for bed," she announced loudly, her eyes glancing off Simon. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room. Max, come on, I'll read you something."

They all said their goodnights and she left them to their conversation and their talk of war. Alec, who was not quite so new to the subject, again found himself wondering what his life was going to be like once he'd become a shadowhunter. Was this all his life would be? Was he going to spend the rest of his time in war councils, discussing battle plans and tactics? He's sworn to himself before that all he wanted was to return to the fields and meadows of his homeland and take his family with him, but how could he abandon Clary and Jace?

_How can you abandon Magnus?_ Alec's eyes traveled to Magnus, who was speaking with Luke about demons' methods of fighting. He seemed so full of energy, so full of life, and Alec knew that Magnus would never turn away from his life and settle on some farm. _You want to leave all this behind, but you know you can't. You know you won't leave him._

Alec sighed and stood, looking around the room. "I think I'm going to go as well." Magnus's eyes sparkled and Simon stood as well.

"I might come up with you, just to check in on Isabelle," he said nonchalantly.

Alec raised an eyebrow but then shrugged it off. "Yeah, alright."

"In the morning then, Alec," said Luke. "Jocelyn and I need to speak to you two about the ceremony you go through to become shadowhunters."

"Right," Alec muttered.

Simon and Alec trudged up the stairs in silence and paused on the landing. Simon gave Alec a long look. "So, you're both going to be shadowhunters?"

"It seems that way," Alec said distantly. "Why?"

"No reason, just curious," Simon said quickly, but Alec knew better.

"You're worried about Isabelle?" he guessed at once. "You think if she's a shadowhunter she'll forget about you?"

"I didn't say that," Simon said defensively.

"You meant to." Alec gave Simon a long, hard stare. He'd always been mildly protective of Isabelle, ever since he'd been old enough to know Isabelle was pretty and plenty of boys thought that way too. He could still remember his father pulling him aside and telling him it was his job to look after her, to make sure she didn't run astray with the wrong type of man. With his father's death, Alec had taken to the role of overprotective brother quickly, and he'd been sure to keep a close eye on the men who looked her way.

Simon had, by far, thrown him through a loop. Alec had never thought his sister would meet a lord, let alone one who thought of her as a lady. He was mostly used to the rough, crude men he'd known growing up; he had thought that was simply how all men behaved. Simon, with his pretty words and polite gestures and careful looks, was nothing but an anomaly to Alec.

However, he did trust him. "I wouldn't worry about it much," Alec said simply. "Isabelle seems taken with you."

Simon's eyes widened at this admission. "What?"

_I'm trying to pay you a compliment, you oaf. _"Regardless of the fact that you're a vampire, Isabelle likes you. I don't think she's known many men like you, and none to have taken a liking in her. I wouldn't worry about her forgetting you."

"I only meant-"

"Mean whatever you want, Simon," Alec sighed tiredly. "I shan't tell Isabelle, but just think on what I've told you. Goodnight, Simon."

Before Simon could say more, Alec turned and made for him room, pausing once to see that Max was in bed and asleep. He closed the door with a soft snap, leaving Simon alone in the hall, Isabelle's door opened invitingly. He swallowed, though he realized how pointless it was, as he was a vampire. He brushed the creases out of his shirt and carefully approached her door; politely, he knocked.

"Hello?" Isabelle called. "Alec?"

"No, no, it's me," Simon murmured, poking his face around the door. He saw her seated in her bed in a mess of blankets and smiled awkwardly. "If you're going to bed I'll leave you to it-"

"No, no, come in," said Isabelle quickly. "I was just thinking a bit is all; I could use the company."

Simon bowed his head and entered the room, making for a chair far from the bed; regardless of Isabelle's like for him, he was unaccustomed to being around women in their bed things. "It's been an eventful day, hasn't it?"

Isabelle bit her lip. "I want to be a shadowhunter, Simon, I really do, but…but how can I do it when it might mean I abandon Clary and Jace?"

"Is there an alternative?"

"No," said Isabelle, tossing her hair back. "No, but it seems I'm doing this almost pointlessly."

Simon laughed. "I don't think Clary and Jace see it as pointless."

"True, but part of me just wants to be something other than a farmer's daughter. Do you understand?" Isabelle peered at him closely. "All my life I've been nothing but a peasant, and this is my one chance to better my standing, to earn renown and glory for the name Lightwood. But then, I think, am I doing this for me or them? Am I right?"

"I think your cause is noble," Simon said gently, trying to calm her down. "You want to help your friends."

"Yes, but I want to help me, too." Isabelle tossed the blankets back and stood up; she went to the window and threw it open, letting the wind pick up her hair. "I want to do this to make myself better too, and isn't that selfish?"

The breeze sent a wave of fragrances to Simon, the smell of lilac and vanilla and blood. It mingled together in his mind and his train of thought was lost. _Where is she getting vanilla from?_ he wondered. "You're not selfish."

"You forgive me too easily," Isabelle sighed, and bowed her head to the inevitable.

Simon gave himself a firm shake. _You're a gentlemen, Simon, act like it! _"If others see fit to forgive you, what right have you not to forgive yourself? Now, you're just stroking your ego."

For a moment, he thought he'd pushed Isabelle too far, but he saw her lips perk up and slowly, she lifted her face. Her eyes were gleaming when she said, "You think? Perhaps I'm a bit self indulgent?"

"We all indulge ourselves sometimes," Simon hedged, and he couldn't help but notice that he and Isabelle were all alone and she was very beautiful and very undressed.

Her smile widened and she drew a few steps nearer. "And what about you, Simon, do you ever indulge yourself?"

Simon's eyes widened and he tried to stop inhaling the intoxicating aroma of blood and Isabelle's skin. "I'm a gentleman."

"A _vampire_ gentleman," she corrected and leaned in so her hair fell in perfect curtains around them. "How is that working for you?"

"Very-very well," Simon murmured, and he could hear her heart beating through her chest. "Isabelle-"

"I'm so _tired_ of talking about _me_," she sighed. "I want to hear about you, Simon. I want you to talk to me, or something along those lines…"

Simon knew what Isabelle was going to do before she did it, and though every part of him was bursting for the chance, another small voice in his mind was crying _wait_! Isabelle leaned in and pressed her lips to his, and in that moment, Simon felt her small body invade the space around his, and he knew how easy it would be for him to grab her, hold her down, and sink is fangs into her throat. Her heart was pounding away, sweet smelling blood pumping through her veins, and all Simon could hear was that drumming in his head.

_Just give in…just open your mouth a little wider…sink your fangs in…_Simon closed his eyes, hardly of aware of his instincts taking over. _That's right, it's been so long since you've had fresh blood, so long since…_

"…so long since I've met so kind a man," Isabelle whispered.

"_No_!" Simon launched himself from his seat, knocking Isabelle backward. She stumbled and fell on the bed, staring at him in a mixture of shock and anger. "No, Isabelle, I-I can't."

Her cheeks flushed. "Of course not," she snapped. "Because I'm just a farmer's daughter, right? Because you're the Right and Honorable Lord Simon and I'm a peasant."

"No, please, understand-"

"Understand what?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not good enough?"

The smell of her blood was still in Simon's brain, fogging his thoughts. "I-I just can't right now…not when you're so-so-"

"So what?" she demanded.

"So _human_," he cried softly and covered his face before running from the room, leaving Isabelle sitting on the bed, mouth agape in confusion.

* * *

The light burned Clary's eyes and she clamped them shut, but too late, a pounding was already starting in her head. She buried herself down deeper in the blankets on the bed and concentrated completely on breathing. It didn't help her head much, but it allowed her the sense of self to think and figure out why she felt so horrible.

"Long night?"

Clary groaned. Just the sound of Jace's voice made her head ache. "I'll never drink wine again."

"You say that now," Jace murmured through the covers, "but I suspect that you'll be at it again tonight."

"I'm not going out tonight, I'm ill," Clary said simply, and pressed her face into the pillow. "Tell Jonathan I won't be joining him."

Jace chuckled. "For myself, I'm happy. You recall that yesterday I said I wasn't going to let the court keep you all to themselves, but you came back rather abruptly last night, and didn't quite give me the opportunity I wanted to make myself clear."

"Was I that bad?" Clary muttered.

Clary heard a rustling and then Jace climbed under the blankets with her. He smiled at her like she was a child. "Quite entertaining."

"Did I do anything-"

"Nothing amiss, Clary, don't worry. You came in, woke me up, said something about living, and then fell asleep; that left me to get you in bed. Aline threw a fit when she saw me taking your dress off…"

Clary smiled wanly. "I suppose she banished you from the room?"

"Oh, yes," said Jace seriously. "Strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to be in here right now, but I snuck in anyhow. I thought you could use a glass of water."

"That sounds heavenly," Clary sighed, and Jace reached out from the blankets to pluck it off the bedside table. Clary slurped it. "It's been so long since I've drunk such strong wine; I should have known better."

"What happened?" Jace asked, resting his chin on his palm and helping her drink.

"The court is…not the place it used to be," Clary said as she finished the water. "It's like with my father gone, all the laws and rules are too. Jonathan lets the people do whatever they wish, and it's madness."

"Do you think it's just a side-effect of the demons?"

"I think he doesn't care," Clary mused. "I think this place is just a ruin for him, and, very soon, he'll be leaving it behind, so why bother caring for it?"

Jace frowned. "There must be order."

"It's chaos. I can do and say whatever I want, and no one cares; Jonathan even encourages it." Clary thought back to the night of dancing and drinking. "It's frightening because I don't know what I'll do. I don' know what I _want _to do."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"Well, when my father was king, I knew what was expected of me, I knew what my limitations were, and that was a good thing. It meant I couldn't do or say something that could hurt another person. I was never allowed to want for things. Now, when I can do what I like, I'm allowed to wonder what I might want, and if I want it, I can reach out and take it."

"Do you think you will?" Jace took the glass from her hands and placed it on the floor.

"I think I'm not used to being so free," Clary decided. "I need balance, I need an anchor."

"It sounds to me like Jonathan is hoping it will go to your head," Jace said thoughtfully. "He's giving you permission to do whatever you like-just like he does. I think it would be wise to be guarded in the court, no matter the circumstances."

"My pounding head agrees with you," Clary sighed.

Jace pulled her against him. "Come here, my sore little wife, let me help." Clary allowed Jace to hold her against his chest, effectively blocking out and light, and run his hands soothingly through her hair. If he ever grew tired of it, Jace didn't complain, and he stayed that way for a good hour, letting the worst of the headache ebb away while he hummed to himself. Clary didn't want to move, not while Jace was holding.

"Princess, Princess, are you here?" Aline's voice was like the screech of a bell, and Clary curled up tighter. "Princess, it's already early afternoon and you have to be up for the king-"

"Tell the king I'm indisposed," Clary grumbled from under the blankets. "With my apologies."

"But, Princess-"

"No, Aline, go away," Clary said sternly. "Jonathan can make it through one day without my presence."

"I don't think this will be met well," Jace sighed, and then kissed her; the moment his lips touched hers, a spark shot from the mark on her arm and to her lips. "You might want to go with her."

"You can't be serious," Clary said slowly, biting her lip to stop the warmth bubbling up there. "Jace, look what happened last time I went off with Jonathan."

"I see that," he said, pulling Clary so that she sat on his hips. "But, Jonathan clearly wants to be around you, and he wants you to be happy. I think we should be taking advantage of this."

"I don't want to go without you," Clary whined. She was hyperaware of Jace now, the pounding of his blood like a drum beat in her head. "Not yet, anyway."

Jace pulled Clary down so that he could kiss her again, and her skin tingled everywhere. He must have felt it this time because Jace delicately traced her lips with the pads of his thumbs. "Tell Aline you want to have lunch with Jonathan here, so that I can join you."

Clary was too preoccupied with the feelings coursing through her to respond at first, but slowly, she pulled her thoughts together. "Yes, Yes…Aline, tell Jonathan I'd like to take my lunch here."

Aline was quiet a moment, but then her voice was softly heard. "Yes, Princess."

"Good," Jace said gruffly. "Good, now come here, wife, and repay me for yesterday."

Clary relaxed against Jace and allowed his hands to run up the sides of her body, up into her hair, and then all the way back down. The kissing continued, sometimes passionate, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough bite. Her hands were moving frantically over Jace, fingers digging small scrapes into his back while his hands were effectively pushing away the headache from the wine. Clary gasped sharply against his throat when he drug his fingers over her thighs, and she pressed herself against him, biting at the soft spot on his neck, urging him silently to continue. And all the while, a heat was building between the two of them, setting their skin on fire; instead of stopping, though, they just allowed the heat to consume them.

"The danger of desirable wives," Jace said conversationally, hiking up her night gown, "is that they are quite a distraction from all other aspects of your day."

"Well, seeing as we're just going to be in this room," Clary rasped against his throat. "There's nothing to distract you from."

Jace paused, thoughtful, his fingers tracing circles on the tops of her thighs. "Sound reasoning, little wife," he said, and then fit her comfortably against him.

It was a pleasant afternoon, and one that that completely forced away any lasting memories from the night before. Later, when Clary lay against Jace's side, her head resting on his rising and falling chest, she looked up at him in the light. "The runes are getting stronger," Clary murmured.

Jace nodded. "I don't know what that means."

Clary kissed his chest. "It means that no matter what Jonathan-or anyone, for that matter-does they can't hurt us. We're tied together now."

Jace ran his fingers over his rune and it did nothing, but when he touched Clary's, it pulsed. _Tied for all eternity…_he wasn't sure if the thought was heartening or not, but it did mean that Clary wasn't going to be taken from him. _Be grateful for that, at least. _

"I wonder if Jonathan is going to-"

"_Princess_!"

No longer covered by the blankets, Aline was given a nice view of a very naked Clary and Jace, and her eyes were pinioned on Clary. "Oh, Aline!" Clary said, gathering blankets about her. "Is Jonathan coming soon?"

"He's ordered you to appear," she said, and her eyes shot to Jace. "You need to go. Go right now!"

"It's my room," Jace growled. "And, she's my wife."

"No, go!" Aline ordered, and she rushed over, swatting at Jace with a pillow. "Get out. Get out! I need to get the Princess ready for her meal."

"It's-my-room!" Jace snapped while Aline pummeled him with pillows, and Clary threw herself between them.

"Will he not be moved?"

"No, Princess. The King requests you immediately." Aline shivered. "He was not happy."

_He'll hurt Jace,_ was Clary first thought. "Alright, alright, Aline get me ready quickly and I'll go down and meet him."

"Clary!" Jace said incredulously.

"No, I won't have him angry with you," she said, and slipped out of bed. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but I won't have him come up here and find us. Hurry, Aline."

Aline was more than happy to oblige, and though Jace tried to persuade her to change her mind, Clary was set. She allowed Aline to dress her quickly, not bothering to wash, and tied her hair into something presentable. She eyed herself in the mirror just once, to see if she even looked like a lady, and saw a pretty reflection dressed in mauve with ribbons in her hair.

"I'll come back, Jace, but if he's angry with me, he's liable to take it out on you," Clary reasoned as Jace approached her.

He kissed her tiredly. "I know, and I'll stay behind and wait, and maybe see if I can't get anything out of Aline, but it doesn't sit well with me."

"Me either," Clary whispered, and then offered Aline a smile. "Well, I'll see myself off. You stay here with Jace and get acquainted."

Aline bowed and Clary allowed Jace one more kiss before going. The trip to the Great Hall was much shorter this time, and Clary had every intention of making it last a while. Nothing helped, though, and soon, Clary was standing again before the door with the words, _he was not happy_, ringing in her head. She glanced down once more at her rune and then opened the doors.

It didn't matter that the place was filled with demons all snarling and snapping. It didn't matter that there was the sounds of human screams echoing off the walls. It didn't matter that Clary was completely defenseless. No, all that mattered was the furious look Jonathan gave Clary when he said, "Ah, Clarissa, so kind of you to finally join us after such a _trying morning_."


	6. The Great Goddess

**Hello again, everyone, just a few things. First, this chapter is a bit graphic, and I'm sorry if it offends anyone. Second, because for the next week and half I'll be taking exams, the next chapter _might_ be posted a bit late; I'm going to try to stay on track, but I can't take time away from studying to write. So, if next saturday, this isn't updated, that's the reason. Thanks for reading! **

The Great Goddess 

There was silence in the hall suddenly at Jonathan's words and Clary was aware that more than a hundred demons were staring at her, and the only thing stopping them attacking her was Jonathan's good graces. His eyes burned brightly, scouring her, and Clary forced herself to continue holding his gaze, but she felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. A small hiss of a breath escaped the nearest demon and Clary's breath rattled out of her.

"Good morning, Jonathan," she said confidently. "It was kind of you to hold your meal for me."

Jonathan didn't smile. "Well, since we missed your at breakfast, it seemed the only polite thing to do."

"How very gracious of you," Clary demurred, but she sensed a sharpness about Jonathan that seemed very dangerous.

Jonathan watched while Clary climbed the stairs to the platform where her seat was waiting, beside Jonathan. When she sat she saw that Jonathan was still standing, staring down on her. "It's a pity you came so late."

"Why?" Clary asked quizzically. "I hope I didn't upset anyone's stomachs."

"Well," said Jonathan, sitting, "had you come when I'd called, we could have had our breakfast, and left for the day. However, you found yourself incapable, and so we must eat lunch."

"Is it so horrible today?" Clary joked, trying to raise a smile.

"We'll be dining with the court today," he said darkly.

"Do they pick their teeth with their knives?" Clary laughed.

Jonathan's face was blank. "No."

_He's in a dark mood,_ Clary thought worriedly. "Well, then, I suppose it can't be horrible."

Jonathan smirked and waved a servant over, a man with a tray of food for them. He served Clary first, placing a bowl of steaming stew before her and a glass of wine. Clary eyed the dark red liquid carefully and stirred her stew. Beside her, Jonathan was looking out on the silent court, his eyes glancing from side to side; after a moment, he stood.

"Well, now that we are all here and accounted for, I think we can begin our meal, yes?" Jonathan looking around and few of the demons nodded their heads. "Excellent, I hope you're all hungry."

Clary, who had been keeping her eyes down heard a strange note in Jonathan's voice and looked up. He was smiling broadly now, and it seemed oddly crooked. _What's he got planned?_

Clary didn't have to wait long to find out what Jonathan seemed so suspiciously pleased about. The door that would have normally led to the kitchen opened a small group of people emerged, villagers by the look of them. Their eyes moved around in wonder, alighting on the polished floor, the grand fire place, the splendor of the lords and ladies clothes, and finally on Jonathan. Clary narrowed her eyes as a man stepped forward, bowed to Jonathan, and spoke.

"It was so kind of you, my lord, to bring us here and honor us by-"

Jonathan held up his hand. "You and your people have shown loyalty to the Great Goddess and have made the sacrifices every month as was commanded."

_Made the sacrifices? _Clary wondered in horror, thinking of the small boy she'd seen skinning the mouse while it was alive. _What have you done to them, Jonathan?_

"We serve the Great Goddess, she who refused to be made a blind slave to the Angel and his get." Behind him, a few women looked about smugly, and small children pressed forward, eyes glowing. "We have made the greatest of all sacrifices, my wife and I."

The men gestured behind him and a young woman came forward. She was painfully thin, with lank hair, and purple shadows under her eyes. In her arm, she held a small bundle, which she carried before her. "The Eternal Mother, she who protects the children, came to me in a vision and I offer her my child so that she might take him and raise him."

_The Eternal Mother?_ Clary's eyes widened when the small bundle wriggled. "What is that?" she whispered.

"_Silence_!" Jonathan snarled softly. "You wish the Great Goddess to rescue your child?"

The woman sank into a bow. "She came to me in a dream and told me that my child could be great, if only I would give him to her. She said she would take him away and he would be made a lord among men, a great warrior, he would be free as she was when she broke her bond to the Angel."

Clary felt her hand constrict on her spoon._ Take him away-_

"The Great Goddess is gracious to you," Jonathan said simply. "You must give your child to the Goddess for him to be free. Then, she will set your people free as well."

"Yes, my lord," the woman said, and she placed the squirming bundle on the ground before her.

Clary saw the small child's face, red cheeks and glowing eyes, and she swallowed hard. Around her, she suddenly noticed that the demons were standing up, leaning over the table, eyeing the baby. "What are you doing?" Clary asked louder, and Jonathan's hand came up and caught her across the face; she fell back clutching her cheek. The woman looked to her husband expectantly, and he reached into his cloak and removed a stone, carved into the shape of a small figure. The wife took it and cradled it close to her, whispering a prayer to the thing. Clary blinked away tears and stood, but Jonathan grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit. Her eyes moved unerringly to the woman and she felt terror wake in her as the woman lifted the statue high above her. "No, wait, stop!" Clary cried, but it was too late.

The woman brought the small statue down with unnatural force, onto the baby's skull with a sickening thud. The baby's coos were abruptly cut off, and Clary screamed, but no one heard her. The moment the blood had been spilled, a horrible snarling went up around the room and the lord and ladies were revealed for what they were. The demons fell upon the unsuspecting group of villagers, their jaws unhinged and their fangs out; a few of the humans must have noticed that they were about to be torn apart and tried to run, but their desperate screams went unheard as they were torn apart by clawed hands and vicious teeth.

Clary was still screaming, still trying to stop the mother trying to kill her baby, still trying to close out the sounds of screams. Jonathan was holding her tightly, and when she pulled away, he jerked her into his arms. "I told you, Clary, that you didn't want to see the court eat, but you just had to have your little moment with Jace, didn't you?"

"Stop it, Jonathan," Clary begged, "_please_, Jonathan, have some mercy."

"I have none," Jonathan said absently. "Perhaps, had you been here, you might have been merciful enough for the both of us."

Clary fought vainly against Jonathan's grip, but he was like iron. She eventually slouched in his hands, forced to watch the slaughter before her. Her eyes moved unerringly to the small bundle on the ground, the baby, in its pool of blood. She heaved a dry sob.

_I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, _she thought. _This is because of me that you had to die…because I was so selfish._ Almost as soon as she'd thought it, a tingling sensation raced up her arm and she felt a gentle presence in the back of her mind, pushing against her terror. _Jace, Jace I know you're there. _Maybe Clary imagined it, but for a moment, she felt something soft brush her arm, like long fingers rubbing life back into her limbs.

"Jonathan, please, I can't watch this anymore," Clary rasped, the sounds of demon snarls almost drowning out her words.

Jonathan was quiet a long time, considering her word. "I will take you down to the river for the fresh air, but you won't go back to your room. You'll stay with me."

"Anything," Clary whispered, nodding her head reverently; the smell of blood and rotting flesh was threatening her stomach.

"Come then," Jonathan grumbled, and he led her away. There was an awful moment when Jonathan pulled her down onto the main floor and she was surrounded on all sides by beasts, but Jonathan just dragged her along, out through the doors, and to the nearest exit. Clary donned a simple cloak and allowed Jonathan to lead her out of doors, into the frozen garden.

The moment the chill air touched her, Clary could feel life stirring in her again. Her mind cleared and she could focus again on something that wasn't screams of terror and bones crunching. "Jonathan…I'm sorry."

Jonathan shot her a dark look. "Are you really? For who?"

Clary bowed her head. "For you, for that stupid woman…for her poor baby."

"Don't be," sniffed Jonathan, taking Clary's hand and strolling along the bushes. "The woman died for what she believed, her baby too."

_That's the demon, it has to be the demon; the real Jonathan _wouldn't_ say that!_ Clary thought desperately. "How could you say that? How can you think-think it's okay-"

"I didn't say it was okay," Jonathan said quickly. "I said she died believing in something, and you shouldn't feel sorry for her."

"That's a horrible thing to say," Clary whispered, uncertain of how Jonathan would react. "She murdered her own child."

"Parents murder their children, whether it's literally or figuratively, and they do it for the best of reasons." Jonathan's dark eyes burned with a sudden, desperate gleam. "Don't you think Valentine was a bit hard on us, Clary?"

_The demon blood…_ Clary thought distantly. _He's means the poison Father gave him as a boy. _"If he was, it was just because he wanted us to succeed. He wanted us to be the best."

Jonathan laughed. "That's rich-and a lie. You know as well as I that he ruined us, and he didn't think twice about doing it."

_Oh, he thought about it, thought about it every day since our mother left him. It's why he let you do as you pleased, why he indulged you. He was sorry. _"It doesn't mean you have to go along with it. We're free now, aren't we? With Father gone and you king, we can do as we please, you and I."

"Not quite," Jonathan said with a smile in his voice. "Not quite."

"Who could oppose us?" Clary asked, hoping he might share a bit of information.

"Well, the shadowhunters for one," Jonathan mused. "But, I'll destroy them soon, no, they're hardly worth the worry."

"Then who?" Clary pressed.

Jonathan slowed their pace, grinning to himself, and he turned to look at Clary with a crooked smile. "Parents, you know, there's always _two _of them."

* * *

"So, is this what you do every day?" asked Jace, watching Aline carefully pick up books off the mantle of the fire and scrub the spotless surface with a rag. "Not that it isn't good to have something to fill your time with, but…" Aline was staring at Jace with a sad, empty look, and he regretted almost at once that he had made the joke in the first place. "Do you want help cleaning?"

"No," Aline said blankly. "No, I like doing this, I like…" Her face crumbled then and she dropped the rag, heaving a dry sob. "I –I like it…"

Jace rushed to her side, but she pulled away from him, leaning against the stone hearth for support instead. He held up his hands, showing them purposefully to her face, but Aline seemed far away. "Aline, why don't you come sit with me a while? The couch is comfortable and the tea you made is perfect on a cold day like this."

"No, I need to clean." She stared at the rag on the ground, but Jace snatched it up.

"I'll take care of it."

"Clary will ask-"

"And I will answer her, Aline," Jace promised, and he drew another step closer, one hand reaching out for her. "I'm her husband, after all, I think I'm allowed to get away with a few things."

"But it was _my_ job-"

"And _I'm_ saying it was completed." Jace took her hand in his and she flinched away. "Aline, please, I'm awfully bored, sitting over there all by myself with a history book. Come and sit with me and tell me about yourself. You used to speak so much, and you had so many good stories as I recall."

Aline blinked, as if recalling from another world her past. "I can't remember."

"Then I'll tell you stories, because I've got my fill," Jace chuckled, and he squeezed Aline's hand a little harder. She didn't flinch this time, but she did frown at him, uncertain what he wanted. "I grew up in the country, you know, out in the wild lands. You grew up in the country, didn't you?"

"Yes," she murmured and Jace gently tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow like he would a proper lady. "Yes, my father, mother, and I. We had a little farm with fields and cows…"

Jace smiled encouragingly. "Do you want me to tell you about the first time I ever tried to milk a cow? It was nightmare, a complete nightmare. I'm sure you've never had such difficulties as I did." The corners of Aline's lips turned up just a little. "There's a smile."

"Maybe you scared them?" she offered, and Jace led her to the couch.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he said as he shook out a blanket and wrapped Aline up in it, poured her a cup of tea, and buttered a few slices of bread. "You need to eat more, Aline, you're hardly a stick; Clary would never forgive me if I let you go on like this. She'll think I'm eating _all _the food. Now, where was I…the cow? Yes, well, I was a little boy then, and I had a nasty temper."

Aline's mouth opened a little. "Didn't you get in trouble?"

"Well, I was very good at hiding it." Jace winked. "I messed my hair so it looked like a lion's mane, and I smeared soot all over my face, and then I crept up on the cow, and while it was eating, I jumped out!" Jace laughed aloud and Aline looked down, hiding a small smile. "Well, the cow panicked-if cows can panic-kicked a bucket over, almost stomped me in the process, and lowed so loudly my mother heard the commotion."

"Was she angry?"

Jace smiled narrowly. "I told you, I was a charming young boy then, nothing like I am now. I told my mother it was the house cat chasing rats."

"Did she believe you?"

"Well," he said, "she did, but, the cow knew better. She kicked me the moment I went for her udders. So, of course, when I went back to the house, I had a great big bruise and no milk, Mother knew at once…"

"I suppose you were punished?" asked Aline curiously.

Jace pressed his lips into a soft line. "My mother thought I was very sneaky and a very reckless boy, and then she sent me to my room without lunch. But," Jace winked at Aline, "she still gave me a glass of warm, fresh milk at dinner."

Aline smiled wistfully. "Your mother must have been a good woman."

"Yes," Jace agreed. "Yes, she was a kind, gentlewomen. And very beautiful too."

"Do you miss her much?" asked Aline, oddly interested.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "I suppose so, yes; my father was away so often during my childhood that I spent much of it with her. She was very gentle, very loving, and she always wanted me to take time from my lessons to be with her."

"What a kind lady," Aline said as an after thought. "And your father, he was a good man, too?"

Jace's face was in shadow. "I didn't know my father that well; he was away at court often and I didn't want to go with him. I was happy enough with my mother and tutors."

"And did you know the princess then?" Aline asked.

Jace paused, considering the woman he had grown to know and love more than himself. "I was told of my engagement to her when I was young, and I didn't like the idea…I thought the princess would be a spoiled, pampered, mean brat. I was wrong, obviously."

Aline fell silent at that and watched Jace carefully from her place beside him. Slowly, she sipped the warm tea and felt a rush of heat. It had been so long since she'd been in the presence of other humans, it was hard to remember what was expected of a conversation. "Then you are happy with her?"

"By the Angel, yes," Jace said incredulously.

"Not the Angel," Aline whispered, and then took a long drink of her tea.

"Excuse me?" asked Jace, frowning.

"The Angel," Aline explained, and she was nervous with Jace's golden eyes digging into her. "No one prays to the Angel anymore, not since Jonathan took the throne…"

"Then who do they pray to?" Jace asked gently, not wanting to scare her.

Aline shook her head frantically, terror clear in her eyes. "I-I can't. I don't want her to see me, if she sees you-if she sees you, she _calls _you to her…"

"Whatever do you mean?" Jace placed his hand on her thin arm, rubbing gently. "She sees you?"

"The Great Goddess," Aline whispered in a harsh, possessed rasp. "If you think of her, if you speak of her, she will turn her eye on you, and then she will call you to her and if she calls-if she calls-" Aline was shivering, and she kept shaking her head vigorously.

"Aline, tell me."

"No, no, please, don't make me…" She snatched his hand and tightened her grip, pleading uselessly. "Please, I don't want to go to her. She'll call me, she'll want me, and then, and then…"

"And then what, Aline, what?" Jace allowed her to keep wringing his hand, but he took her chin and held her firmly. "Speak quickly, and she won't know."

"She'll know! She _always _knows!" Aline tore her chin away. "She sees, always sees, her eyes are always watching, and once she has you in her eye you can't escape. She'll wrap you up in her darkness and power and-"

_This sounds like possession_, Jace thought uncomfortably. _What has Jonathan released into this world? _"Aline, I can protect you, I'm a shadowhunter, a warrior; if you speak to me, I will guard you against her darkness."

Aline scrambled out of Jace's reach and threw herself to rug before the hearth, covering her face and muttering a string of prayers and curses. "No, no, _no_! Not me, please, not me. Don't make me speak, don't make me tell…"

"Aline?"

"_Don't make me tell_!" she shrieked, and began pulling at her hair listlessly. As if it didn't bother her, Aline tore at her roots, pulling out clumps of dirty, dark hair; Jace rushed to her side, tugging her wrists away from her hair.

"Aline, stop it, stop this madness," Jace ordered, but she was squirming violently, trying to break his grasp. "Aline!"

"You can't make me!" she cried, and threw all her weight backward, freeing herself. She returned at once to her hair, petting it soothingly.

"I won't, Aline, I won't make you say anything," Jace said desperately, watching a few more clumps come out, some with blood on the ends. "I won't make you do anything!"

"Don't ask me, don't ask me," she repeated, meeting his eyes with her wide, confused gaze.

"I won't," said Jace quickly. "I'll tell you a story, alright; you'd like that, wouldn't you? A story?" Aline made a strange whining noise and rocked back and forth. "Right, I'll tell you a story I read as a boy, my favorite, about a great warrior who was brave and cunning and defended the helpless. You'd like that?" Without waiting for Aline to answer, Jace continued:

_"Rage-Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles,_

_Murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,_

_Hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,"_

Jace continued in this vein for a long time, recalling the story with an impeccable memory, and gradually, Aline began to relax. She dropped her hands from her hair and instead drew her knees up to her chest and held onto them. Her rocking stopped eventually, and the small whining noises that had been escaping her ceased. As Jace came to the close of the story, Aline was watching him closely, her eyes no longer glassy and confused, but with some small spark of life. Jace finished with a sigh and gave her an uncertain smile.

"Did you like it?" Aline bit her lip and Jace guessed that Aline hadn't really heard a word of it, but that the sound of his voice, the presence of another human, was far better than some story. "It's my favorite."

She clamped her teeth together and ground them. "Favorite."

"Yes," Jace said. "Yes, it is. Would you like some more tea? I'll warm it up for us."

Jace rose without her answer had picked up the pot when the door flew open and Clary hurled herself forward in a swirl of skirts. She saw Jace, heaved a dry sob, and rushed to him. "_Jace_!"

"What is it?" He wrapped both his arms about Clary, and she wept into his chest. "What happened?"

"Jonathan, he did something horrible, and he said it was for some goddess-"

"Quiet!" Jace said loudly, his eyes going to Aline who had stood in Clary's presence.

"W-what?" Clary stuttered.

Jace's eyes moved to Aline, who was looking like a ragged mess, and back to her meaningfully. "Why don't you ask Aline to _run you a bath_?" he suggested.

Clary's eyes widened with understanding. "Yes, yes…Aline, would you like to run me a hot bath? And make me fresh tea. And lay out my bed things."

Aline dipped into a bow. "Yes, princess."

As soon as she was gone, Clary turned to Jace. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"

Jace told her about the Great Goddess and her panic attack. "I don't know what the Great Goddess is, and I don't know how it came to be here, but Aline is terrified. Do you think Jonathan had anything to do with it?"

"Yes." Clary shuddered and then told Jace of the woman and her baby and the demons. "She killed her own baby, Jace, she-she just bashed it's head and-"

"Stop," said Jace, his face pale. "Don't say anymore. I don't want to hear it."

"This certainly explains the village we passed through, doesn't it? Whoever this goddess is, she's replaced the religion of the Angel throughout Idris, and Jonathan's using her name to commit his atrocities."

Jace sat down, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not so sure it's Jonathan doing this, Clary."

"How do you mean?"

"Aline spoke of the goddess as if she were alive, as if she were here. She kept saying the goddess could see her and she would call Aline to her. And the woman you saw today, she said the goddess had sent her a vision and summoned her and her child. This seems to me more like possession."

"_Possession_?" Clary gasped. "You-you think Jonathan is being possessed by this goddess?"

"I can't say for sure what's going on, Clary," Jace sighed. "But it sounds as if this goddess is a real person, at least in a physical sense, and that her powers are great enough that she knows the minds of the others and can control them."

"Like Jonathan."

"Perhaps," Jace agreed. "Perhaps the demon whose blood Valentine took was this goddess. It would have to be one the most powerful of greater demons to poison a shadowhunter like it did Jonathan, and this goddess seems right up his alley."

Clary sat beside Jace, allowing him to hold her. "Oh, Jace, that poor baby."

Jace kissed her hair. "It wanted the baby," he mused. "It told the mother to sacrifice the baby to her. Why?"

"Don't demons want life? I suppose the more evil the demon the more horrible its tastes," Clary shrugged.

"Is there a library around here somewhere?" Jace asked after a moment. "With histories and demonologies?"

"My father kept a personal library, yes, in the north tower. Why?"

"Can you get Jonathan to let me and Aline go there during the days?" asked Jace.

She thought of the small bundle of baby, gurgling at its mother just before the woman thrashed the life from it. Slowly, Clary's eyes roved out to the window, even now, in the early evening, it was pitch black out. "What days, Jace? This demon, this thing, she'll kill us all."

"Can you get me to the library, Clary?" Jace asked again, kissing her cold lips.

"Yes, I'll convince Jonathan," she murmured.

"Then I'll see what I can't find about some mother demoness," Jace said decidedly. "Now, go take a bath and come to bed. I tire of this day and everything in it."


	7. High and Dry

**Hello,everyone, sorry this is late, but I hope it's worth it! Thanks for reading!**

High and Dry

Isabelle leaned back against the tree in Magnus's back yard and tried to relax her sore muscles. She hurt everywhere: in her legs, in her arms, in her back, in places she didn't even know could hurt. A muscle in her calf cramped suddenly, and her toes twisted into uncomfortable shapes. She panted while she massaged the sore spot, trying to remind herself firmly why she was putting herself through her paces.

_You want to help Jace and Clary, you want to help your friends, you want to be a better person, _she said to herself. It was like her personal mantra: be a better person, be a better person, be a better person. _You want to be a better person-who's not a human, _she added privately, thinking of Simon.

Ever since her experience with Simon a week prior, she had been haunted by his last words he cried as he'd ran from the room. Isabelle had stared after him, feeling profoundly confused by him. By the time she'd risen up and gone after him, Simon had left the house. She had wanted to follow him out into the street, but Luke had snatched her back, while she shouted after Simon. The next day, she'd hoped he would come back and she might talk to him, but Simon didn't show. She waited another day, and still, Simon didn't make an appearance; Isabelle asked after him from Magnus, who shook his head hopelessly. Isabelle spoke to Alec, pleading with him to go speak to Simon for her, but he said that when's he'd gone to his old house, Simon had refused him on the grounds he was too busy. Isabelle had gone as far to ask Jocelyn if Simon had spoken to her, but Jocelyn hadn't heard from him. At a complete loss, Isabelle had thrown herself into training for her upcoming Ascension.

_It doesn't help much, does it?_ she asked herself, rubbing her legs. _You're getting better with the blade, but it doesn't make Simon go away. Or come back. _

Isabelle leaned her head back and stared up at the leaves the tree and then further, into the perpetual darkness. Of all the things she'd come to miss while hiding in Alicante, it was the sky; the beautiful, infinite blue of day or the blanket of black, dotted with thousands of stars. Instead, she tried to picture them now.

"How is your training going?"

Isabelle jumped a little and glanced around. Luke was padding toward her, smiling his usual tired smile. "I haven't been this sore since my first week in the palace."

Luke laughed. "Yes, well, it doesn't get much better, mind you. The practices are more often, the lessons harder, and the instructors less forgiving."

"Don't remind me," Isabelle growled. "I keep thinking that once I'm a shadowhunter, I just get to mark myself up and be powerful and graceful and strong, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

"So much more," Luke said, and then nodded to the space beside her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," said Isabelle politely, and scooted over a little for him.

Luke sank down and gave himself a shake, tossing hair out of his face. It was gestures like that that really reminded Isabelle Luke wasn't human. She had a difficult time believing this kind, gentle, well-read man could be the monstrous dog that had been guarding Clary for years, and usually, Luke kept up good appearances. Sometimes, though, he'd do things so clearly wolf like she had to pause to let it sink in.

_He's a werewolf, not just a man_, said Isabelle. _He's a man but he's a werewolf, too. He's both…_ "Luke, I have a question," she said suddenly.

"I might have an answer," Luke said kindly.

"It's about Simon, something he said."

Luke looked sympathetic. "Have you not spoken with him since that night?"

Isabelle stared down at her hands. "No," she admitted. "I've tried, but…"

Luke didn't push her further. "Simon is facing a challenging time in his life, Isabelle. Everything he's ever known, his family, his past, his home, it's gone. He's very alone, I think, and very confused."

"But what did I do?" Isabelle asked suddenly.

She was surprised when Luke laughed. "Isabelle, it's not _about_ you. Simon has just gone through a very life shattering experience, and he's trying to come to terms with it. This problem isn't you, Isabelle, it's _him_; it's his struggle to deal with the fact that he's a vampire now."

"He said it's because I'm too human," Isabelle argued. "He said that!"

"You are human," he reminded her. "You're very much human, and he's very much not. I'm sure he was afraid he was going to hurt you."

Isabelle blinked. _That's ridiculous, completely ridiculous; I was the one who grew up in the country, making a living off the land, struggling to survive. _"Hurt me?"

"I know it seems odd-"

"It's absurd! How could he possibly hurt me? Simon is some lord's son, just some _prim_, _pompous_, _proper_…" Isabelle kept muttering to herself, but she sensed Luke's amusement more than anything, and she hated being laughed at. "It's the truth. Simon has never known anything but his pampered life, and he thinks he can hurt me?"

"He can," Luke said softly. "Simon does a good job playing the proper lord, a good job being a gentleman, but he's very dangerous. Vampires are strong, fast, hunters; they have an impeccable sense of smell, too, and the young ones have a hard time controlling their instincts. Why do you think Jocelyn was so scared for Clary when Simon turned?"

"Because she doesn't trust him," Isabelle said, determined not to accept the truth.

"No, because Jocelyn knows the risks of a new born vampire." Luke ran a hand through his hair. "Simon is trying to navigate the waters of his vampirism, and it's going to be difficult enough without the added temptation of your blood."

"It was my blood?" Isabelle asked, surprised. "I thought-well, I thought it was my…behavior." She looked down, blushing furiously.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "While I'm sure your behavior would have made even the best of men give pause, it was your blood that pushed him past his limit. I don't know if you can understand just how intoxicating blood is to a vampire, especially a newborn. Simon probably felt sick just being around you."

"So it was me," Isabelle sighed.

"You can't think like that," Luke said quickly. "These things will pass, and Simon will grow stronger, but for now, I'm sure he's afraid that he'll hurt you if he spends too much time in your company."

"But, he won't," said Isabelle swiftly. "He's a good man, and he wouldn't hurt me."

"He might not be able to help it," Luke said. "Young vampires can sometimes be completely consumed by their blood lust, and Simon must recognize that. He's just doing what he can to keep you safe."

"I'm not afraid of him, Luke, I'm not afraid he's going to hurt me. I trust him."

Luke shrugged. "Perhaps he doesn't trust himself?"

Isabelle looked away, off into the trees behind Magnus's house, and she wished fervently that she could just walk out into them and somehow come out in her home in the country, away from the demons and shadowhunters and handsome vampire men. "I wish he would. Did he ever think that maybe it's hurting me?"

"Emotional pain is far more bearable, I think, than physical," he chuckled, and tried to raise a smile from her. "I think Simon will come around shortly; I think he's just adjusting and it's a constant struggle. He would be fool, though, if he never saw your face again."

"As soon as I'm a shadowhunter I'm going to march over to his home and make him speak with me," said Isabelle firmly. "He can't hurt me then."

Luke nodded. "Are you ready for it?"

Isabelle bit her lip. "I haven't really thought of it, to be honest. I know I'm going to be a shadowhunter, and I know I'm going to carry a new weight on my shoulders, but I just don't realize what it all means. I can never go back, and sometimes it scares me, but then I want it even more."

"Yes, it can seem that way before your first permanent Marks. I was shaking like a leaf on a tree when they marched me up to the Gard." Luke smiled faintly and Isabelle saw something in his eyes, some memory that was both wonderful and painful.

"Was your family there?"

"Oh, yes, and Valentine and Jocelyn, too," Luke said. "I don't think I could have gone through with it if it weren't for those two."

"Valentine?" Isabelle spat. "You and he were friends?"

Luke stared at her. "_Friends_? Isabelle, Valentine and I were parabatai."

"I don't know…"

"Warriors bonded together, closer than brothers," Luke explained. "He was my best friend when I was at school, and a constant source of encouragement for me. I was a poor student, if truth be told, and rather timid, but Valentine drew me out. Besides, I had Jocelyn."

"You knew Jocelyn before?" Isabelle thought of the queen she had known growing up and the woman she had recently met. "What was she like?"

Luke laughed. "Jocelyn and I had grown up close. My family kept a small plantation out by the Fairchild Manor; we met as young children and spent out summers together. She was a wonderful person, a fair bit like Clary: strong-tempered, determined, but sweet."

"I can't really see it," Isabelle admitted.

"Yes, it's hard to believe," Luke said contemplatively. "Before she met Valentine, before she knew just how amazing a shadowhunter she was, before she understood how beautiful a woman, she was, she was just a girl with freckles and red hair."

"Then Valentine came along," Isabelle muttered. "Does that man ruin everything he touches? Jocelyn, Jonathan, and Clary, thank the Angel, Jace came along when he did."

"It wasn't always that way, Isabelle." Luke shifted uncomfortably. "You must understand, Valentine wasn't always so horrible. He was charismatic, talented, charming; _everyone_ loved him, and to be around him was like standing in his glow. He was amazing, and when you were around him, so were you."

"But, the things he did…"

"Yes, but by the time we realized what he wanted, it was too late." Luke shook his head. "And then, when I confronted him about attack on Alicante, and the night I was bitten…things just went wrong."

Isabelle nodded her head though she might not have understood. "Not that it matters much anymore, since he's dead."

"Perhaps," Luke said, "but the consequences of his life and actions have brought us to this. Think on it, Isabelle, where would you be if not for Valentine Morgenstern?"

_With my family on my farm,_ she thought, and realized that her life now was some strange, insane mix of unbearable sadness and magnificent joy. She had lost her mother and father, had watched her home burn, and had been forced into slavery, but she had met Clary and Jace, and she found this amazing city, and was on the verge of becoming a shadowhunter. _Life is surely a strange mix of pain and pleasure, and I suppose it's just about finding the happy medium._

* * *

"Why is nothing in this library written in a language no more recent than Latin?" Jace grumbled, squinting at a page. "It never makes sense."

Aline was seated across from Jace, and when he looked up at her, she jumped and nodded her head. "I can barely read as is; it must be dreadful, translating."

Jace smiled wanly. "I'll teach you to read, if you'd like," he offered and Aline fingered the edge of a book. "Do you want to learn to read?"

"I…I'm not sure," Aline said softly. "If I read, I'll have to learn the religious texts, and then I'll have to read about _her_."

_At least we're getting somewhere_. Since Aline's first breakdown at the mention of the strange new goddess, Jace had been very gentle with her, speaking just enough of the issue to encourage her to speak, but not enough to push her to the breaking point. It had been a little over the week, and she had conceded to referring to the goddess as 'her'. Jace couldn't quite quash the feeling of sympathy he had for Aline, and had been urging Clary to treat her tenderly.

"No you won't," said Jace with a quick smile. "There're plenty of books to read, plenty of stories about other places and other times."

"Maybe," Aline hedged, and then pointed to the book Jace had before him. "Will I have to read that?"

"Oh, no," said Jace, flipping through the pages with his thumb. "Latin is a dead language, and absolutely pointless for the majority of the population. You'd do better with English as it is."

"That's good, because I'm not sure I wanted to help you with the reading," she said, and Jace was surprised to see the smallest smile on her face and the barest glimmer in her eyes. She was trying to laugh, trying to joke with him.

"You don't think _this_," said Jace, indicating the book, "is not a life-fulfilling, satisfying endeavor? Why, Aline, I'm appalled."

Aline bit her lip. "Well…no."

Jace pushed the book aside. "Yes, I completely agree. How about I find you a nice book of pictures of the country while I keep digging through this mess?"

"I'd like that," she said and looked around the room.

Jace rose and carefully began scouring the bookshelves. Valentine's private study had gone untouched during Jonathan's acquisition, and Jace sensed just as Clary had, that this place had a feeling of abandonment and loss. He could picture this place, this library, in ruins, the books molded by time and dust, the shelves rotted and decayed. He ran his fingers over the shelves, considering the texts before him. Most of Valentine's private books were war texts, history texts, books for shadowhunters, demonologies, stories of the Angel, but nothing that seemed suitable for Aline just then.

"What do you like?" Jace asked, considering an atlas.

"I don't know," Aline answered, watching Jace with careful eyes.

"Well, do you like pictures of magic things, or country sides, or big bustling cities?" Jace opened the atlas and frowned; it only contained images of Idris.

"I like things like home." Aline stood and plodded over to Jace's side. "Farms, and trees, and flowers."

_No idea where I'm going to find that, _Jace thought. _No one in this castle has painted like that since Jocelyn lived here._

"I've got it," Jace said suddenly, smiling at her. "Aline, you stay here, I'll be right back."

"But you can't go," Aline said quickly. "The king said we were to stay-"

"What's the worst that will happen?" Jace threw over his shoulder as he left.

The journey from the north tower down to the main part of the castle was eerily silent. When Clary had escorted Jace there, he had, as usual, been more concerned with her and what she was saying, and hadn't noticed the quiet. Now, as he went down by himself, Jace was hyperaware of his surroundings and the lack of life there. He hurried his pace.

As the bottom of the stairs, Jace peered quickly out the window of the castle, onto the back lawns. He saw, to his discomfort, that the court and Jonathan and Clary were out on the green, playing bowls on the frosty grass. Even from his distance, Jace could see Clary's flaming red hair caught in a breeze, and he also saw Jonathan, lurking close by her side, whispering conversation in her ear. He saw the tender gestures he made toward her, the way he kept her arm tucked in his, his fingers sweeping back stray hairs.

_It's wrong, it's so wrong for him to be like that, _Jace thought with disgust. _He's her brother and he's touching her like he was her lover. _

Jace bared his teeth in a silent snarl and clenched his hands together. He had thought when he'd met Simon Lewis, he'd known jealously over Clary. After all, they had been friends for so long, and Clary had simply fallen into friendship with him after so many months apart. He had watched Clary laughing with him, speaking to him, worrying over him, and he's been irked to no end. But, even then, he had known that Clary was his. Jace was not fool enough to think Clary would leave him for Simon. He wasn't foolish enough not to see how well suited he and Clary were to each other, and, on a much more personal level, how compatible they were.

This is was different, though. Jonathan wasn't just some foolish lord's son with money and land, he was a trained shadowhunter, and, what was more, he was the most powerful force in their lives right now. Jonathan had made very clear from the first that he didn't view him and Clary as siblings, and he had shown how his power had driven the land to madness. Natural order didn't matter anymore when you were all-powerful; Jonathan could make the world to his desire, and his desire was Clary.

The only consolation Jace had was the knowledge that he was bound permanently to Clary, and that to kill him, Jonathan would have to kill her. So long as he lived, Jace would protect her, and he would live as long as her. Still, he didn't doubt that Jonathan was trying to find a way to break the bond formed between them; he just hoped Clary's skill with rune making was strong enough, and, even if Jonathan couldn't kill him, he certainly had plenty of ways of getting what he wanted. Jace's greatest fear was Clary's selflessness. She would go to any lengths to protect him, and Jonathan would surely demand sacrifice from her soon.

_I won't let him have it,_ Jace thought fiercely. _I won't let that monster touch her. _

Unable to bear the sight of Jonathan with his wife, he left the window and hurried to Clary's old rooms. The doors were unlocked, the windows left open. There was sign that someone else was inhabiting the rooms in the glowing embers in the fire and the mussed bed, but aside from that, the room seemed unchanged.

_Demons take little, _Jace observed, curious against his better judgment. _It only needs the bed so that the human body is uses doesn't decompose. _

He moved silently through the place, paused before the fire place, and ran his fingers along the mantle. As he had expected, the art book was still there, undamaged by time or new owners. Jace flicked through it quickly before leaving the room, chased by the silence and his own memories of the place. When he returned to the library, Aline was seated on the window embrasure, letting a cool breeze stroke her face and hair.

Jace studied her from his vantage point. She was still thin, but her belly wasn't bloated anymore and a few more weeks of proper meals would have her looking like herself again. Her hair, Clary had insisted be washed daily, and brushed and held back in a serviceable bun; Aline had stopped running her fingers through it, tears pieces out, and it wasn't reminiscent of a rat's nest anymore. In the proper light, Jace saw that her face wasn't so pale anymore, at least not deathly, at any rate. The human companionship must have been doing her good.

"Aline, I have a book for you, a special book," he said, holding it out like an offering. "It's only pictures, and they're nice, too. Just families and country sides and landscapes."

Aline looked at the book dubiously, but she snatched it quickly from Jace's hands and held it against her chest, looking hard at him. "Where did you get it?"

"It' belongs to Clary," Jace said kindly, and then added on a whim, "She thinks you'd like it."

This seemed to brighten Aline immensely, and she smiled nervously. "Does she really want me to see it?"

"She thinks you might like the pictures," Jace nodded. "Why don't you sit here by the window while I read some of these old books? You can see the green in the back gardens from here; tell me when you see the court coming in."

"If you insist," said Aline, but in reality, she was pleased to have an order that was a simple as watching the lords and ladies. She plopped down on the cushioned seat and opened the book slowly, taking her time as she went from picture to picture.

Jace watched her a little while, making sure she enjoyed the book, and then returned to his work. It was hard going, reading the ancient text; his Latin wasn't bad, but the partchment itself was old, and places seemed to have decayed. There seemed little though for him to go off of, and as he discarded one text and moved to the next, he sensed the mounting ask before him. There were thousands of demons, hundreds of greater demons, and to go through all of them, looking for a single one who had an affiliation for children was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

_Still, what's the alternative?_ Jace asked himself as he read a possible paragraph. _Jonathan mentioned to Clary that he was preparing for victory, and that means he's going to need his strength with him. Do we just wait until he summons the demoness? _

Jace tossed a parchment aside an hour later, sighing heavily. "By the Angel, this is impossible! Hundreds of greater demons, and they _all_ want children."

Aline looked up and her lip trembled. "She's the Great Mother," she whispered, and then stuck her nose back in the pictures.

_Great Mother?_ Jace wondered. He had heard of many demons, but none that went by that name. "Is the court still on the green?"

"Yes, but they seem to be tiring of their games and Jonathan is speaking to them. Perhaps they will return soon?"

"Excellent," Jace muttered. "A day wasted and nothing to show for it. We should go back to the room so you can help Clary dress."

Aline snapped the book shut and stood at once. "Of course, I forgot all about it!"

_Well, at least she's happy about it,_ Jace thought tiredly, and then nodded to the door. The two see went quickly back to the room at wait. Jace had just leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed, when he heard an angry snarl like an animal and a sharp cry of distress. He jumped to his feet and shot through the door as Aline screamed and dropped the gown she was holding.

"…you lie!"

Jace arrived just in time to see Jonathan raise his hand and watch Clary dropped into a crouch to avoid his blow. "Stop!" Jace ordered, darting into the line of Jonathan's blow. Behind him, he felt Clary tremble at his feet. "What are you-"

Jonathan's blow fell anyway, and he struck Jace with enough force to send him tumbling to the side. "I don't take orders from worthless slaves," Jonathan spat, aiming a kick at Jace's side. "You should leave well enough alone."

"Jonathan, stop!" Clary cried, and lunged at his kicking foot. The force the Clary's jump overbalanced Jonathan and the two crumpled to the floor. "It's not his fault."

Jonathan kicked Clary once, and she rolled off him and then brought the back of his hand across her face. "Of course not, it could never be _precious_, little Jace's fault; no, it's all me, isn't it?"

"I didn't say that," Clary panted, holding her hand to her cheek. "Please, it's not what you think, Jonathan; you're my brother-"

"I don't want to hear," Jonathan snapped, rising slowly up and looking down at Clary furiously. "I have given you _everything_, Clary, and that's how you really feel? You could never _feel for me that way_?"

"Jonathan, I love you, but-"

"Liar!" Jonathan roared and then swung his foot back to kick her again. "Your feelings betray you, dear sister, you're disgusted by me. Admit it!"

"I don't," Clary cried, shaking her head. "I think you're sick and need help."

"Oh, yes, that must be it." Jonathan circled around her. Jace rolled over, shaking the blackness out of his eyes. He saw the way Clary was covering her face protectively, and clambered over to her. Jonathan's eyes darted to him, and Jace was horrified to see that Jonathan's eyes were black, very black, so black that even the whites of his eyes were gone.

_What are you_? Jace wondered.

"You're my brother."

"Not anymore," Jonathan shot. "If you will not love me the way I deserve, then I shall not treat you the way you deserve. If you wish to love a slave, than you may live as a slave."

"Jonathan, please, let me help you," Clary pleaded.

"I don't need your help," he laughed, and then reached down, catching her hair and tugging at it, tearing the precious jeweled combs out. "I _need_ nothing from you, and _want_ only one thing."

Jace lurched forward, trying to stop Jonathan before he hurt Clary. She managed to loosen his grip enough so that she could crawl to Jace, but Jonathan grabbed the hem of her beautiful gown and tugged it, tearing it up the skirt and to her waist. She screamed in absolute terror and Jace knew she was reliving her worst nightmares.

"Jonathan, stop it!" he ordered again, and grabbed Clary and pulled her into his arms.

"Jace, he's gone mad, Jace," she panted, hiding her face in chest.

"Quit hiding in you precious lover's arms and face me, Clary!" Jonathan roared and tore the skirt again, ripping it up to the bodice. "These find things I have given you, I take them back! The position I have appointed you, I take back! The respect my court has given you, I take it all back! You will have nothing! Nothing, you worthless, filthy whore, and you will regret having ever shunned me."

"Leave her alone!" Jace cried over Jonathan's wild snarls, and he tried to swat the other's boy's hands away. "Have you gone mad?"

No sooner had Jace said it then Jonathan threw his hand back and cackled like a hyena. Jace thought that maybe he was imagining things, but he was almost sure that Jonathan's face was contorted, like the bones beneath his skin were trying to push themselves out of his flesh. His eyes were larger than before, and black and glassy; when he smiled, his mouth opened wider than usual and his teeth were startlingly white.

"I can be whatever I want, you whelp!" Jonathan crowed and Clary whined against Jace. "I am King of Idris, and soon, I'll be King of this World, and when that day comes, you will tremble at my feet, united in your slavery to me."

"Yes, yes, whatever you want," Jace said quickly, watching Jonathan's face bend oddly. "Just leave us here now and I will bring Clary to her senses."

Jonathan's eyes alighted on Jace and he licked his lips. "Yes, yes, little, Jace, you can make Clary see reason, make her see what she has done to herself in her rejection of my love. You two can live as my slaves until Clary accepts my terms."

"Yes," Jace agreed. "Yes, we will, but just leave her to me." Jace could feel Clary's small body, and she had stopped trembling, but had reached that point where she stopped feeling at all. She was nestled against him, staring at her hands with wide, unseeing eyes. "Please, Jonathan, I can help you, Clary and I are bound together, remember? She will hear me out, she will believe me if I tell her to. Let me help!"

Jonathan pulled back, and Jace saw that his face was devoid of all human emotion, and was darkly contemplative, hungry in a terrible way. "Yes, yes, you can be of use to me…" He laughed to himself again and then stormed into Clary's room.

Aline came scrambling out like a bat out of hell, shrieking in her terror and tripping over her feet into the floor by the fire place. She curled up there, muttering and rubbing her arms until they were red. The sound of destruction and devastation echoed from the rooms, but Jace Held onto Clary through it all. Jonathan emerged, looking more human, but still furious.

"Aline!" he shouted, and she yelped. "From now on, Clarissa and Jace are to join you in servitude to me. Clary and Jace have a new position: entertainment in my court; you will prepare them for that tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," Aline shuddered and then curled up tighter.

Jonathan stalked past and paused at the sight of Clary and Jace sprawled on the floor. "I will see you two tomorrow." He laughed once more and left, leaving Jace with a sobbing Aline and an empty Clary.

_This is surely madness. _


	8. The Madness of the King

**So, in this chapter, there are some lines from The Bacchae, by Euripides, they are written in italics, but I think it will be pretty obvious which part I didn't write. Anyway, I thought instead of a literature citation, I'd just give credit up here. Enjoy!**

The Madness of the King

Clary lay curled up in a mess of blankets on the floor before the fire place, watching the embers burn down and the shadows dance across the floor. She could have stayed that way forever, wrapped in the darkness, the blankets, and her thoughts. Not that they were happy thoughts, but they were something to push away the fear of the next day.

"_You should know, Clary, that I'm sorry about everything," Jonathan had said. "About what happened in the past, I mean."_

_Clary felt her mouth hanging open; how could Jonathan speak so openly about their relationship in plain view of his court. She looked down, lowering her voice so the closest demon wouldn't hear. "You'll understand why I find that hard to believe?"_

"_I do," Jonathan had said, "but I still want to make this better. Can you ever forgive me for what I did?"_

"_I-I'm not sure, Jonathan," Clary answered softly. "I've spent my life since then living in fear of you, of our father, of everyone. How can you expect me to simply forget it?"_

"_I don't want you to forget it, but I want you to understand why I did it," Jonathan said, urgency in his voice. "You and me, Clary, we're the last."_

"_Last what?"_

"_The last Morgensterns," Jonathan said slowly, as if Clary were a child. "You and I are the children of Valentine Morgenstern, the last of his creations. We need each other."_

_Clary bit her lip. "Jonathan, I-"_

"_Listen to me, Clary," he said, and swung her around to face him. He held her at a distance, as if in reassure her that he wasn't going to hurt her. She looked up into his eyes and saw a bright light, a desperate, bright light, and she was reminded faintly of stars. "I was wrong, I was so wrong, and I know it, and I will never forgive myself for what I did. Every night I remember what I, and I every night I wish I could take it back; Clary, please believe me when I say that I will _never_ forgive myself. It's one thing I cannot change…not without you."_

_Clary felt the pressure of eyes on her and she knew that she was being watched by the court. She could still remember her promise to the Angel to help Jonathan, and she couldn't quite forget the memories of Jonathan from her childhood. He was there somewhere, deep beneath the demon. "What can I do?"_

_Jonathan smiled suddenly, like Clary had said something he'd wanted to hear. "I need you, Clary, that's all. When you're around me, I'm a better man, I _feel_ like a better man. I want to make you happy, and all the things that make you happy, all those good things you like, I want them too. But it's more than that, and I don't know what it is, but I like it; I don't want you to go because I like this feeling._

"_Just stay with me, Clary, stay here in this castle with me. I promise you, I can make everything better; I can give you everything you want."_

_Clary swallowed. "I'll help you anyway I can, Jonathan."_

"_I'll make you happy, Clary. For all the bad things I did, I'll make them better. This place, this castle, can be your domain; your will will be made real. Tell me what you want, Clary, and it will be so. Just promise me, _promise me_, you will stay here with me."_

"_Jonathan, I don't know what to say," Clary managed to sputter._

"_Say you will stay with me," Jonathan answered swiftly. "Say you'll stay here with me forever, just the two of us, and you can have anything you want."_

"_But, Jonathan-"_

_Jonathan took her face in his hands, pulling her in. "I always needed you, Clary, and I understand that now. It's why I wanted you, why I always wanted you. When we were children, you were my only friend, and when we grew up, you were the only woman I ever wanted. But it all makes sense, don't you see? I _need_ you, Clary, I need you in every way."_

_Clary pulled back a little, thinking of Jace, locked in the castle. Where would he fit in? "Jonathan, I-I need you too, but…you're my brother," she whispered._

"_And so?" Jonathan said evenly, still holding her face._

"_I _do_ care for you, I'll always care for you, but you speak of making this world anew, and what about Jace? I love Jace."_

_Jonathan shrugged, and Clary could see the light darkening in his eyes. "I don't care about Jace; you can have Jace. He's your husband, and I accept that, and I accept that there are things he can give you I can't, but he doesn't _need _you like I do. Have him, keep him for whatever you need, but stay with me."_

_Clary was shaking her head. "I love him, and it would be cruel to put him through that."_

"_But why does it matter?" The light in Jonathan's eyes was gone now, and they were shiny and dark. "This world is _our_ world, and all the things in it are _our_ things. We can use them as we see fit."_

"_I can't _use_ Jace, I love him," she pleaded softly._

_Jonathan's hands dropped and his eyes narrowed. "You love him so you can't love me?"_

"_Please, believe me," Clary began, and she saw that the demons were all watching her, staring hungrily as if they sensed an easy meal. "I love him more dearly than I do myself, it's as if this world is pointless for me without him in it; and for you, I love you like I always have, like it's something natural, like an instinct."_

"_But I love you as you love Jace," Jonathan said, and he seemed confused. "If I can love you that way, why can't you love me?"_

"_I can't choose how I love," Clary reasoned, and a few demons had moved closer._

"_Why not?" Jonathan demanded sharply. "I'm more than willing to hand you the world, and all I want in return is your love!" Jonathan slapped Clary's reaching hand away and seemed to tower over her. "I would have you love me, and it is my will."_

"_You can't force someone to love you," Clary said quickly, trying to move closer and away from the demons, but Jonathan just pushed her back._

"_It's not force," Jonathan snapped. "I'm offering you everything you could want, and you're too selfish to return the favor."_

"_Love isn't about favors!" Clary said desperately. "It's about desire and beauty and trust." _

"_Then you don't trust me?" Jonathan growled. "Or, perhaps, you think our love would be ugly? That's it, isn't it?"_

"_No, no, Jonathan, that's not it all," Clary began, but Jonathan grabbed her by her hair. _

"_It's _you_ who is the ugly one, wearing your selfishness on your sleeves!" He dragged her away from the court, up to her room, ranting like a mad man. "I would have given you everything, but since you want nothing, I shall give you that instead."_

"_Please, Jonathan!" she'd cried. "Please, believe me!"_

"_I would have made the world for you, but since you don't want it, I'll make it for me instead." Jonathan spun her around suddenly, throwing her up against a wall. "I _will_ have your love, Clary, and you will love me as you love your precious Jace."_

Clary closed her eyes and pushed away the rest of the day's events; she didn't want to think about her brother anymore. She snuggled down into the nest of blankets and rolled away, hoping to warm her back. Beside her, Jace was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, thinking. She drew a little closer to her, and Jace stirred. He glanced down at her, saw her tired, glazed eyes, and wrapped an arm about her.

"I thought you were asleep," Jace said softly, tucking her head against his chest se he could kiss her hair. "Did I wake you?"

"No," said Clary after a moment. "No, I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," said Jace, and then fell silent.

Clary wished he would say something, wished he would tell her everything was going to be okay, but he wasn't going to pretend and lie to her. After Jonathan had stormed out of the room, laughing like a mad man, Jace and tried to wake Clary from her stupor, but she had just curled up against him, shivering and shaking. He had had to lift her up and carry her into their room, with every intention of getting her in bed and tucking her in as tight we he could before trying to coax Aline out of her fear, but Jonathan had destroyed the room more effectively than a pack of werewolves, upending tables and chairs, tearing the blankets and rugs apart, cutting deep gashes into cushions and mattresses. Jace gently deposited Clary on the floor by the fire and went to the bed to find as many undamaged pillows and blankets as he could and construct a bed on the floor. But the time he'd finished, Clary seemed to come back to herself a little; she crawled into the blankets and didn't cry when he said he had to go find Aline. Aline turned out to be much more a challenge than Clary, because she was hysterical; Clary had listened from her bed on the floor while Jace pleaded with her to come with him, to calm down, too look at the picture book again, to do anything by sob and scratch her arms. In the end, Jace had said Clary demanded Aline come and sit with them, and Aline wanted to be a good maid, didn't she?

Once Jace had herded Aline into the room, he'd joined Clary on the floor, looking utterly exhausted. He'd checked to see that Clary was comfortable and sleeping, and then leaned back to stare at the ceiling; he'd had nothing to say to her, no words of comfort, because there were none. They were in a tricky situation now, and for once, Jace didn't have the answers she needed.

"Tomorrow you'll have to go to the court with me," Clary said, her fingers curling around his shirt. "Jonathan will make us go together."

"Is that bad?"

_Think of what the last court almost did to you!_ "I'm scared for you. I've made Jonathan so angry, and now he's going to want revenge."

"Clary, what happened?" Jace finally asked. "I thought Jonathan wanted you to be happy? I thought he was going to make you love him?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "He apologized to me for…everything, but then he just kept saying how he needed me, how he would give me everything if I would never leave him, how he loved me."

"That's an odd request for a demon," Jace mused.

"I don't think it's the demon, at least not completely." Clary bit her lip, thinking it over. "I think my brother is there somewhere, buried beneath all the hate and pain, and he's trying so hard to fight his way out. I think he's terribly lonely and I think he wants to be loved, but the demon is poisoning him, and making him think love means ownership, and that I _have _to love him completely for it to be love at all."

"If that's true, Clary, then it means your brother is still there, he's still fighting to escape," Jace said. "There's still hope for him."

"I should have told him I loved him," Clary murmured. "I should have just lied and said I would love him like he wanted. None of this would have happened and maybe he would have escaped the demon."

"I don't think so," Jace said thoughtfully. "I don't think you can lie to him like that. Demons feed off of hate and pain and lies, and the one in Jonathan would only have grown stronger with your lies. The love he's feeling and the love he's expressing are two very different things, and unfortunately, it's the love he's expressing that has been distorted by the demon. You'll have to reach Jonathan on a much deeper level to help him."

"How?"

"I don't know," Jace sighed. "I thought just having you around would do him good, but it only fed the selfishness and the lust and the want. The demon just wants more now."

"He wants us," Clary whispered. "When Jonathan told me he'd give me anything, I asked about you."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "And what did he say?"

"He said you were just an object in this world, and that he and I were people. That I could have you however I wanted, and he wouldn't care if it made me happy."

"That's generous," Jace snorted.

"He didn't want to kill you," Clary reasoned. "He wants to keep you alive now because he knows I want you, and he wants me to be happy."

"Well, I'm not sure what he meant by us being _entertainment_, but I don't think it has to do with your happiness."

"It's just a passing phase," Clary said distantly. "He wants me to see that I should love him, I think, and that if I lose everything I have, I'll want it all back. It's why he's keeping you alive. He knows I'll want you later."

"I suppose that's good to know," Jace grumbled. "It's always so heartwarming to know the only reason I'm alive it because of my wife."

"It's just how he thinks," Clary said. "What do you think he'll want for us tomorrow?"

Jace frowned and his eyes darkened. "I don't know, and, frankly, I'm not interested in knowing what demons think is entertaining."

"I never saw anything like entertainment in the court before," Clary wondered. "We always just went outside and played games or skated on the ice."

"I don't know what demons find _entertaining,_" said Jace darkly, "and frankly, I don't want to know."

* * *

"Wake up, wake up quickly, the King calls for you," Aline whispered into Clary's ear. She stirred and tried to push herself closer to Jace. "Please, rise, before he comes looking for you."

"It's still dark," Clary gurgled. "Why is it still dark?"

"You must rise before the court so as to be there when they look for you." Aline tweaked the torn sleeve of Clary's dress. "Now, princess."

"A moment, Aline," Jace sighed, and stretched his arms above his head. "Just a moment to think is all."

"Think quickly," she said sharply, and hurried off, muttering to herself of something.

"You have to get up, we have to meet with your brother," Jace said gently, and he kissed her lips hoping to draw her out. "I'll be with you no matter what, remember that."

_You being there isn't going to make this any better,_ Clary thought painfully. _You being within Jonathan's reach is just going to make it worse and you know it. _"Please be careful, Jace; you love to risk your life for nothing, and I can't lose you here."

Jace smirked, but his heart wasn't really in it. "Alright, I'll behave myself."

Clary nodded and then kissed Jace's cheek before sitting up. She was stiff and tired, and her fears had kept her up late into the night, haunting her dreams. When Aline saw that she was up and about, she hurried over and pulled the blankets off Jace and Clary. She flicked her eyes over them and she considered them sharply.

"I have costumes for you to wear, but yours will have to be taken in, mistress." Aline nodded and Clary and Jace exchanged looks at the word _costumes_.

As it turned out, they really were costumes, clearly meant for a play. Clary had seen many plays performed in the court for entertainments. Those, though, had normally been performed by a traveling troupe, not unwilling lords and ladies. She thought that perhaps it was going to be a masque, and when Aline gave her a list of scenes, she saw how long it was. She didn't recognize the play.

"What is all of this?" Clary asked in disgust when she was the dress laid out for her. It was strange, made of a fabric she didn't recognize, and cut in a way that wasn't suitable for the cold climate they were in. There was a tight, boned corset, inlaid and trimmed in beads. A skirt was attached to it, but they were fitted and draped close to her body and sagged on the floor like rages. "Who would wear this?"

"Agave," answered Aline, pointing to the script before her, then looked between Jace and Clary. "Agave wears the dress and Pentheus wears the robes."

"Pentheus and Agave?" Jace asked curiously. "Is this a Shakespeare work?"

"It doesn't sound familiar," Clary murmured, as she allowed Aline to dress her in the strange outfit, and then tie her hair in a loose bun. She fretted over the belt holding Jace's robe before letting them go, and the sun had finally peeked over the tree tops and shed light on their tired faces.

In the sitting room of the King's chamber, Jonathan was waiting. When he saw them arrive, dressed so oddly in their costumes, he smiled, pleased. "We have a masque today. You and Jace will play the lead roles, of course, as is only polite of me to give to visiting guests."

"What play is this?" Clary demanded, gesturing at her dress.

"_The Bacchae, _by Euripides, a Greek playwright of many ages ago. Have you heard it?" Jonathan's eyes were glowing when he saw their confused looks. "You will enjoy it, I promise."

"And will you take part?" asked Jace loudly, not liking the sound of this play.

"Oh, yes, but I shall have a minor role, the role of the forsaken son," Jonathan laughed. "The court is most anxious to begin our fun, though, so follow me."

Clary and Jace allowed themselves to be led out of the room and back to the Great Hall. When they arrived there, the court had already gathered and was discussing the upcoming masque in their hissing voices. A few looked very excited and when they saw Jonathan leading Clary and Jace, their mouths opened in smiles.

"Welcome, my loyal lords and ladies!" Jonathan crowed as he entered, lifting his arms in greeting. They howled and snarled in response and Jace felt that initial shock and fear Clary had at being so close to demons. "As you all know, today, we shall be enjoying ourselves with the retelling of the great play, _The Bacchae._ I trust you have all chosen your roles?" There was some nodding and Clary notices a group of demon women dressed like her, but in different, paler colors to her deep red. "Then we shall begin at once."

Jonathan summoned a bard up, who took a place standing on the platform where the king ate. He cleared his throat. "Please, get yourselves ready and take your places while I prepare the play."

Jonathan snatched Clary's and Jace's arm and dragged them away. "The bard will read the play to you, all you must do is follow his instructions. Do you understand?"

Clary rubbed her arms. "Yes, Jonathan."

"Very well, my gracious divas," Jonathan snorted at Jace. "Be ready, for once the play begins, I do not want to stop until the end. I think it shall be _most_ entertaining for the court."

Clary and Jace pressed together, watching while the strange demon people whispered to one and other and dressed accordingly. Jace was sickened by the sight of the demons, looking so much like people, but so disgustingly distorted; in their costumes and with their hair, they looked like wild animals. One of the men looked over to him, smiled, showing a mouth full of dagger teeth, and then licked his lips. Jace frowned and recoiled from the creature. It had looked rather hungry. At his side, Clary tweaked his sleeve.

"Jace, what is _The Bacchae_? I've never heard this play before, and look at all the court, dressed like they've gone mad." Clary pressed herself against his side. "Don't go."

"I've never heard it, but I think it has to do with Dio-"

Just then, the bard had spoken up, proclaiming to the court the opening lines. "So spoke Dionysus:

"_I've arrived here in the land of Thebes,  
I, Dionysus, son of Zeus, born to him  
from Semele, Cadmus' daughter, delivered  
by a fiery midwife—Zeus' lightning flash.  
Yes, I've changed my form from god to human,  
appearing here at these streams of Dirce,  
the waters of Ismarus. I see my mother's tomb—  
for she was wiped out by that lightning bolt."_

Jonathan moved forward then, bowing low and pretending to mourn over a tomb of a woman covered in grape vine. He was dressed in a deer skin pelt, with thistle in his hair and a spear in his hand. The bard continued, and when he mentioned Cadmus, Jonathan smiled warmly and invited a man forward. Clary gasped, for the man with Lord Lewis, Simon's father. Lord Lewis came too and joined Jonathan in morning the grave.

"This is bad," Clary whispered to Jace and he was about to wrap an arm about her when three women came over and tore her from Jace's grasp. She struggled, shouting, "Jace, stop them!" But other men came to hold him while Clary and the women moved into the center of the room. The bard was still speaking:

"_Thebes is the first city of the Greeks  
where I've roused people to shout out my cries,  
with this deerskin draped around my body,  
this ivy spear, a thyrsus, in my hand.  
For my mother's sisters have acted badly,  
something they, of all people, should avoid."_

The three women behind her pushed Clary forward before Jonathan and she tumbled in a heap, they hissed in laughter behind her. When Clary looked up, Jonathan stood before her, smirking down on her face. Clary thought for a minute me might strike her, but instead, he circled the small group of women, hissing at the others while Clary regained her footing.

The bard continued and Clary soon understood. Semele, the sister of Agave and the three other women, was Dionysus's mother, and she had lain with Zeus. Her sisters, thinking that she had lied to hide her adultery, doubted Dionysus's true heritage as the son of a god. Now, Dionysus had returned to seek revenge on the city of Thebes and its king, by driving the women mad. They had left Thebes and went out into the mountains where they dressed in animal skins, and hunted, and drank wine, and danced, and did all other sorts of atrocities.

Clary was forced into a horrid dance with the other demon women, and when she tried to leave, they pulled back and snarled and her, slashing out with their claws. They were determined not to lose their fun. Clary was forced to watch from the circle of dancers while Jonathan waved forward Jace and the two men holding him. The bard said:

_Now Cadmus,  
the old king, has just transferred his power,  
his royal authority, to Pentheus,  
his daughter's son, who, in my case at least,  
fights against the gods, prohibiting me  
all sacrificial offerings. When he prays, __  
he chooses to ignore me. For this neglect  
I'll demonstrate to him, to all in Thebes.  
that I was born a god._

Jonathan watched while Jace came forward, flanked on both sides by the demons, and smiled slowly at him. He repeated loudly and clearly, "I was born a god."

The play moved quickly from then on, and Clary soon realized Agave was Pentheus's mother and Dionysus's aunt, making Jonathan and Jace cousins. For much of the play, Clary stayed with the Bacchae, dancing, hunting, and drinking wine, and occasionally interacting with Dionysus, who would come and dance with them. Jonathan took these occasions to pick Clary out and force her to dance with him, drink with him, sit near him, allow him to stroke her hair or arms. Across the room, Jace was always in the company of Cadmus, Simon's father, trying to find a way to stop the rouge god.

Jace was forced to act the role of the petulant, dubious king, and when the scene came that Dionysus was captured and brought before Pentheus, Jace and Jonathan faced off. Clary, who was now being physically restrained by two of the Bacchae, strained against their hold when Dionysus gave a great speech and freed himself with his god-given powers, wreaking havoc through Thebes. In the course of this, Jace lunged for him, more of a chance to hit him than in act, and Jonathan punched him squarely in the chest, cracking a rib. Clary screamed then, and a demon woman grabbed her and held her down, very suddenly biting into her forearm.

"Stop! _Stop!_" Clary cried, but the madness was too infectious for the demon court. They broke into wild dancing, tearing the clothing off each other, eating the flesh of their fellow actors. The demon that had bitten Clary sat on her hips, staring down at her with eyes completely black. It grinned and tongue slithered out of its mouth and began lapping at the blood on Clary's arm.

"You, little princess, you taste good," it said while Clary rocked back and forth. "A pity Jonathan keeps you to himself. Perhaps he will share from now on."

Clary pulled back her hand and managed to break its grip before she smashed the heel of her hand into its face. It fell back, shrieking and moaning, but the cries of pain only added to the insane cacophony of the court. Clary jumped to her feet, looking rapidly about and saw Jonathan standing on a set piece, a pile of rocks like a throne, and below him, Jace being held down by two demons while another was licking his neck and face with a fat, purple tongue.

"Let him go!" Clary ordered, and darted through the crowd. She crashed into one of the two holding Jace, and Jace managed to kick the one licking him away.

"That's not nice, Clary," Jonathan reminded her from above.

The third demon scythed the air with a clawed hand, but Jace dodged it and caught the wrist, snapping it effectively. It moaned in agony. "Make this stop, Jonathan!" he said.

"But, why?" Jonathan jumped down and joined them, smiling back and forth between the two. "This is wonderful, isn't it? This lawlessness, this freedom, this is what my world shall be. No more rules, no more unjust monarchs, no more corruption of the few."

"This is corruption of all," Clary rasped. "Look at them!"

The scene of the court of monstrous. The demons, unaware of the feelings of their human hosts, were eating each other, eating themselves, eating anything in sight. There were others that were dancing about a fire they had started, cooking small rodents that had lived in the castle. Still others were exploring the human bodies they inhabited, cutting off bits of themselves in their exploration. Clary, watched as the demon who had been licking Jace rolled on its back, reached its arms above its head, and pushed itself into a backbend before walking away like a distorted crab.

"Make this stop, Jonathan, please," she begged as a pain shot up her arm.

"You could have made this stop," Jonathan pointed out. "But since you will not free me, then I shall not free them. We play on! Bard, begin!"

It took some time for the demons to come around again to themselves. Finally, when they had some semblance of humans, the bard picked up the play towards the end, having lost much of the script in the fray. He began to speak, and Clary found herself being escorted by the same demon who had bitten her, back to the corner where the Bacchae were staying. She watched, terrified as Jace and Jonathan again met.

Dionysus, disguised as an old man, convinced Pentheus to save his mother, Agave, by taking him to the woods where the Bacchae live. Pentheus agreed to go disguised as a woman, and the old man took him away. Clary shivered as Jonathan wrapped an arm about Jace's shoulders and pulled him toward her and the other demon women; they licked their lips and allowed drool to pool out of their mouths. In the play, Dionysus left Pentheus hidden in a tree when the Bacchae found him. Clary saw Jonathan wink at her and she knew something horrible would soon begin.

"And so it was," said the bard, and read the scene:

"_His priestess mother first began the slaughter.  
She hurled herself at him. Pentheus tore off  
his headband, untying it from his head,  
so wretched Agave would recognize him,  
so she wouldn't kill him. Touching her cheek,  
he cried out, "It's me, mother, Pentheus,  
your child. You gave birth to me at home,  
in Echion's house. Pity me, mother— __  
don't kill your child because I've made mistakes."  
But Agave was foaming at the mouth,  
eyes rolling in their sockets, her mind not set  
on what she ought to think—she didn't listen—  
she was possessed, in a Bacchic frenzy.  
She seized his left arm, below the elbow,  
pushed her foot against the poor man's ribs,  
then tore his shoulder out."_

Clary looked to Jonathan in horror, knowing she was Agave and Jace was Pentheus, and there was nothing she could do. "Please," she began, but the demons behind her were snarling in their fury, and one darted around her, at Jace.

Jace ran for the table, for a dinner knife there, and just reached it as the demon came upon him. He slashed at its throat and Jonathan roared in rage. "That's not the play!"

"Stop this, now!" Clary crowed, and ran for Jace. Another demon followed, but Clary struck out, breaking its jaw with one blow. She skidded to a halt before Jace, wrapping her arms around him. "I won't play these games anymore, Jonathan!"

The demon crowd had now closed in, all of them gurgling in their throat, and broke when Jonathan came. He stood there, looking between Clary and Jace, and then tilted his head to the side. "Well, I didn't say you could stop."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"You had a chance, but you didn't want it." Jonathan reached past Jace and plucked another knife from the table. He held it out to Clary. "In the play, Agave tears off his head, but I certainly don't want Jace dying. I'll settle for his hand."

Clary stared at the knife, feeling Jace's chest rise and fall beneath her. "I can't. Please, Jonathan, you're angry with me; it's me you should be punishing."

"You've denied me once already, do you think it wise to do it again?"

"I cannot know, but I _will not _do this." Clary twined her hand in Jace's. "I won't hurt the people I love, Jonathan, I wish you wouldn't either."

Jonathan blinked in surprise and she saw confusion flight across his eyes, like what she had said had resonated with him on some deeper level. Suddenly, as if furious, Jonathan drove the knife into the nearest demon, and watched it fall back and whither on the ground. He spun on Clary, eyes wild. "Look what you do to me! You two worthless slaves, look what you do!" Clary pressed herself against Jace. "Leave me! Go, go sit in my rooms and wait for me. I said _go_!" he roared when Clary and Jace just stared. They didn't need telling twice; they fled the hall and demons as fast as they could, but as they ran, they heard Jonathan call after them. "Can I have _nothing_?"


	9. Ascension

Ascension

"Are you okay?" Jace tried to swipe Clary's hand away, but she grabbed his wrist with surprising strength and held them out of her way. "Let me see your neck, where the demon was licking you."

"Clary, I'm fine," Jace groaned, more out of pride than pain. "Let me see your arm, it's bleeding badly."

Clary hadn't even noticed her arm was bleeding, she'd been so caught up in her terror of Jonathan and Jace's injuries that she'd forgotten she'd been bitten. "Do you have a stele?"

"No," Jace admitted, "but I can clean it and bind it up. Come with me to the bathroom; I can probably get Aline to bring me some herbs from the kitchen."

As if she'd heard Jace say her name, Aline came scuttling out of the mess that was the Queen's rooms. She took in the sight of Jace and Clary, bleeding, bruised, and tattered, and gulped loudly. "W-what do you need?"

"Aline, do you know your herbs?" Jace asked, leading Clary into the bathroom. When Aline only looked confused, Jace sighed. "I'll write out a list and you can take it down to the kitchens and have someone get them for you. There is a human down there who can read, right?"

"Yes," Aline murmured, watching the blood from Clary's arm pool on the floor. She drew back slightly. "I'll go fast."

Jace told Clary to soak her arm in a bucket of water while he wrote out a list for Aline. She fled, running for the kitchen and the safety of human company while Jace returned to Clary. She was watching the water turn slowly pink as her blood leaked out. When she saw Jace coming, she nodded to her arm.

"It looks worse than it is, I promise," Clary said. Jace plucked her arm out of the water and turned it over gently.

"It looks pretty horrible," Jace said, and found a towel. He dried her arm off and then began tying it off around her upper arm. "As soon as Aline gets here, I'll clean it, but for now, how about you now lose any more blood?"

"Do you think it's poison?" Clary wondered. "I was bitten by a demon, and they have all sorts of horrible diseases in their bodies."

Jace frowned. "We'll clean it and keep an eye on it. We can always petition Jonathan for a stele; he doesn't want you dead, after all." Jace sat quietly for a minute, and then looked into Clary's eyes. "Your brother Clary, he needs help; I didn't know how bad he was…how far gone."

Clary turned away. "Jace, he's not _gone_, he-he just needs help. He didn't make me hurt you."

Jace looked incredulous. "Clary, he broke my rib, and let his demons attack you; he clearly wasn't trying to keep us in one piece."

"He's just confused and the demons, he keeps them around and they make him do things," Clary knew how ridiculous she sounded. "Please, he needs our help."

"I don't deny that he needs help, but I don't know if you can give it to him," Jace said, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to risk your safety for him."

"He's my brother," she said softly, staring at her arm. "I know he's done horrible things, but I think there's a way to him. It's just…"

Jace wanted to shake Clary until she said she'd just forsake her vain hope, but he felt that familiar tingling in his arm, spreading up into him. It was Clary, it was her hope and faith and her love. "Just what?"

"Do you remember what he said?" Clary asked, thinking back to those last horrifying moments. "He said, can I have nothing?"

"And so?"

Clary shrugged. "It just sounded so…so desolate, like he'd tried being nice, and it didn't work, and he tried being cruel, but he realized that didn't work either. He wants something Jace, but I don't think even he knows what it is."

"He wants you," Jace said darkly.

"He wants _us_," Clary denied. "He didn't have to bring you along, he didn't even have to let the two of us stay together. Jonathan wants me because he thinks he loves me, but he wants you for something. I just don't know yet."

_My brother-in-law wants to bed my wife and keep me like a pet,_ Jace thought darkly. "If he wants a friend, he should try not letting his demons eat me."

"Better a friend than a lover," Clary snorted as Aline returned with her arms laden with goods.

Jace was glaring when Aline said, "I've got the herbs, sir."

"Bring them here," Jace said, not taking his eyes off Clary. Jace crushed up the herbs and dumped them into water before bringing it to a boil. The smell of earth and plants filled the air and Clary felt heady. "Alright, let me see your arm."

Clary held it up and Jace dipped a cloth in the softly simmering liquid. He pat Clary's arms with it, but she gasped suddenly and Aline stumbled back. "Jace, it hurts, stop! _Stop_!"

Jace jerked the cloth back and was horrified to see that her arm was turning black around the bite marks, and she wasn't bleeding anymore, the punctures were oozing white foam. "By the Angel," Jace whispered.

"It hurts," Clary groaned, and she crumpled back, holding it against her chest. "Jace, it's burning."

"Okay, okay, let me see," Jace said, trying to grab hold of it and failing while Clary whined and rubbed her arm. "Clary, let me see it!"

"W-what happened?" Aline stuttered, watching the white foam leak out. "I'll g-get some help."

"Wait, Aline-" Jace called, but she was gone. He growled under his breath and managed to wrest Clary's arm away from her. "Let me see this."

"My shoulder hurts," Clary said while Jace tried to clean it with just water. "What happened?"

"You were bitten by a demon," said a calm voice. "It was clearly toxic, and now, you're suffering adverse side effects. Tell me, Jace, do you feel it yet?"

Jonathan was watching the display with a smirk and Jace narrowed his eyes. "Help her, Jonathan."

"And why would I do that?" Jonathan asked. "It'll be a at least a day before she's in a critical stage; until then, she'll just be in horrible pain, and, since you two are bonded together, so will you." Jonathan looked very pleased with the idea. "I would very much like to watch you suffer."

"She's your sister!" Jace snarled, and as if Jonathan could see the future, his arm started to tingle with an unpleasant heat.

"No," Jonathan said, coming closer and looking from Clary's arm and then into her eyes. She blinked back tears. "She gave up the right to call me brother when she betrayed me. Clarissa is nothing but a servant in my palace now."

Jace could feel the heat in his arm growing and he looked over at Clary who was slumped over her arm. "She could die."

"No, she couldn't," Jonathan said, and then he sat down on the edge of the tub, resting his elbows on his knees. "I fancy I know a thing or two more than you about demons. I have until dawn tomorrow to perform the healing rune."

"Why are you doing this?" Jace demanded, and rose to his feet. He stood taller than Jonathan, but Jonathan just looked up at him and smiled.

"Because I can, and because I'm bored," Jonathan shrugged. "You see, since you two pulled out of our play, I had nothing to do after that. The demons wanted to eat, so I let them-"

"Stop it."

"-but what was I to do? I certainly wasn't hungry, at least not in the way they are. And the job of the court is to keep me entertained. Since the rest of my court was busy, I thought I'd come here."

"You think watching your sister suffer is entertainment?" Jace snarled, and his arm was stinging. "You're a monster."

Jonathan's hand snapped up and grabbed Jace's burning arm; he gasped and crumpled to his knees. "You're going to call me names? I am your king! I am your master! Shall I put you in your place, Jace?" Jace jerked his arm back and forth, but Jonathan wouldn't let go. "Get down, boy!" Jonathan ordered, and threw him to the floor.

Jace rolled over before Jonathan could aim a kick at him. Clary, who had seen it all from her place on the floor, reached out. "No, Jonathan, don't!"

Jonathan paused and looked over to Clary. "My dear, I can't abide a slave saying such things to me."

"H-he's just worried about me."

"All the better reason for me to let him watch you suffer," Jonathan answered, and his eyes were glowing with a manic light. "I'm not going to spare you either, Clary. In fact, I think we should, perhaps, retire somewhere where I can be a bit more comfortable to watch you two."

"You're sick!" Jace roared from his place on the floor. "Leave her alone!"

Jonathan had grabbed Clary under her arms and was lifting her to her feet. Clary was shrieking all the while, her arm oozing on the floor. "Be quiet, wench," Jonathan snarled.

Jace scrambled after Jonathan, who was now tugging Clary because she had found her footing. Jace was pleased to see who was putting up a fight, but when Jonathan spun about and caught her across the face with the back of his hand, she tumbled sideways and he was able to pull her along without any resistance. Jonathan threw open the doors to his chamber and tossed Clary in; Jace lunged at Jonathan then, and the two fell into the room.

"You really think you're a better fighter than me?" Jonathan asked as he and Jace rolled across the floor. "You may have a lion's share of the Angel's blood, but I've got something much better."

"The blood of a monster!" Jace snarled, landing on top of Jonathan. He pulled back his fist to hit the other boy, but Jonathan was quicker, and caught his fist. "We know the truth, Clary and I, about what Valentine did to you. We know about the demon blood."

Whatever Jonathan expected Jace to say, it's hadn't been that; his face paled a shade and for a moment, his eyes widened in surprise. "And who told you that?"

"I wouldn't be too worried about it," Jace answered, trying to free his fist. "It's the truth, that's all that matters."

Jonathan threw Jace off him and pounced on top of him. "You don't know the half of it, because if you did, you wouldn't speak to me so petulantly. You, little Angel Boy, would live in fear of my might."

"You're a demon," Jace spat. "That's all I need to know."

Jonathan smiled then and reached into his pocket to reveal of knife, its tip wickedly sharp. "Perhaps we should talk about blood, then, eh?"

"Jonathan, don't!" It was Clary, and she had managed to stumbled over to the two boys, wrapped her hand weakly around Jonathan's wrist.

"Ah, and dear little, Clary, too," Jonathan said, swinging his arm around, and her with it. Clary landed on the floor beside Jace, and she looked up at her brother in horror.

"Why do you do this to us, Jonathan?" Clary gasped. "I'm your sister, and Jace, he's your brother; if you would let us, we could be your friends."

"I know now that you and I can't be friends, Clary," Jonathan said darkly. "We are as water and oil; it is in our natures, you see, to hate each other. It is only unfortunate for you that I want to keep you two alive."

"Stop speaking in riddles," Jace snapped, eyeing the knife in Jonathan's hand.

"Take heart, Jace, that if I could, I would kill you," began Jonathan, "but we share a history, the three of us, and when I've burned this world to ashes, it is us three who will rise up."

"I don't understand," Clary moaned, clutching her arm. "If your nature is to hate us, why bother keeping us alive?"

"I told you!" Jonathan roared. "You and I are the last Morgensterns, and Jace…it was just the luck of the draw that brought him here. Were you any other man, I would have killed you by now."

Clary's hand shot out for Jace as if Jonathan could kill him by just his words. "You want us so badly; let us help you."

"There is nothing to help," Jonathan chuckled darkly. "I'm not ill, little sister, I've not been poisoned; I am simply being who I am." He held the blade against the throbbing vein in Jace's wrist. "_This _is my nature."

"What do you mean?" Jace asked carefully, aware that he was the disposable one.

"You say you know what Valentine did to me," Jonathan said with a manic smile, "but have you never wondered about yourselves?"

* * *

"Just keep your wits about you and don't say anything stupid."

"Thank you for the advice," Isabelle said scathingly, "because I was planning on telling the Inquisitor and Counsel that they could both go rot in hell. So glad you got to me first, though."

Magnus raised an eyebrow and looked to Alec. "Keep an eye on your sister; with her mouth, you're both likely to be banished from the city."

Alec grinned as he looked down, but Isabelle caught his eye and he managed to rearrange his face into something serious. "It's a quick ceremony, isn't it? We'll go, and give our oaths, swear fealty to the Clave, and then drink from the Cup, that's it, right?"

"Yes, in essence, but I'm sure the Inquisitor is liable to drag on a bit about honor and bravery and dedication, and you'll have to sit through it all. So, be ready for the long haul."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. It wasn't really her fault, but when she was nervous, Isabelle seemed annoyed with everything around her. "Can we just go in already?"

"The Clave is making a big production of this," Magnus sighed. "Afterward, they'll probably ask you to go give a speech or something to the general public, encouraging men and women to join them. You're going to be the face of their movement."

_Just what I want,_ thought Isabelle darkly. _I'm not doing this for the Clave, I'm doing it for Clary and Jace_. "Well, I haven't got time for that, have I? I've got to train."

Magnus smiled slyly at her. "Nice try, Isabelle, but they're not letting you off that easy."

Alec caught Isabelle's shoulder before she could respond. "I'd like to get started either way. Are they almost ready for us?"

Magnus turned and listened carefully to the door that separated them from the Conclave. "It sounds as if the talk is dying down; I'd smarten up if I were you."

Alec glanced down at himself. He was dressed in a formal coat Magnus had lent him, buttoned to hide the stain on his white shirt. He'd managed to convince Isabelle to wash his pants, and his boots gleamed in the witchlight. His eyes moved slowly to Isabelle, who hadn't bothered checking to make she was presentable; frankly, she didn't need to. Isabelle looked stunning no matter what she wore, and today was no exception. Jocelyn had found her a fitting red gown, and she brushed her hair until it gleamed. Isabelle certainly _looked_ like a shadowhunter, her dark eyes contemplative and secretive, her face set in grim determination.

_She's far more suited to this life than I,_ thought Alec painfully. _She'll make a name for the Lightwood family. _

"Have they stopped?" Isabelle asked suddenly, her fingers brushing over the skirt of her dress. "Can we go in?"

Magnus opened his mouth to answer, but the doors opened suddenly, air whooshing out of them. "I'd say yes," Magnus murmured.

Just like the time before, Isabelle and Alec were struck by the sheer size of the room, the emptiness and the darkness. As they padded into the room, the stone floor and its pattern gleamed in the faint light. Isabelle drew a little closer to her brother and they crossed to the center of the room together.

"Alexander and Isabelle Lightwood," said the Counsel, and his eyes sparkled in the pale, green glow. "You come before us, seeking Ascension."

Alec swallowed loudly. "We do."

"And are you certain this is your desire?" the Inquisitor asked suspiciously.

"More certain than anything," Isabelle answered swiftly. "We want to help our friends."

"Help your friends?" said the Inquisitor sharply. "How do you propose to help the Clave?"

"They are one in the same," Isabelle said, wishing she hadn't spoken. "To help the Clave will help Clary and Jace. We will work for the Clave to free our friends."

It looked as though the Inquisitor wanted to press the matter more, but Jocelyn stood then and cleared her throat. "We've been through this before, Inquisitor, and the Clave has already agreed to instate them. I hardly think their views have changed in the time since."

"We must be certain," said the Inquisitor, but Magnus's laugh cut him off.

"I don't think you can afford to be certain," he sniffed. "You need more soldiers, and they are willing to step forward and help."

"So be it," said the Counsel, shooting the Inquisitor a look. "The Iron Sisters have come to Mark you, and the Silent Brothers to swear your oaths."

_Silent Brothers? Iron Sisters?_ Isabelle wondered, but there was the sound of fabric dragging across the floor and Isabelle turned toward the sound.

Approaching them across the hall were four shadowhunters, two women, two cloaked and hooded. The women carried long, sharp knives, like the ones all shadowhunters carried, but glowing with a fierce light, the cloaked figures, though, carried nothing and spoke to no one.

Isabelle turned to Alec, looking confused and his eyes found Magnus across the hall. "What are they-"

_We are here to search your mind and heart, to know that you are ready to take up the mantle of shadowhunter, and to seek your intentions, as they may be._

Alec and Isabelle both jerked back as if they'd been tugged by an invisible force. "To search our minds?" asked Alec aloud.

One the cloaked figures raised a hand in greeting. _We are the Silent Brothers, the keepers of the Clave's past, the guardians of its future. Before you may enter out ranks, we must know who you are._

_It's in our heads, _Alec realized, for the voices had sounded so loud.

_Indeed,_ answered one of the Brothers. _You must open the door to your minds. State your name._

Isabelle and Alec exchanged dubious looks. "I'll go first," Alec said. "If something happens to me, run."

"Alec-"

But Alec had already turned to face the hooded Brothers. _I am Alexander Lightwood, firstborn son of Robert and Maryse Lightwood. I am the brother of Isabelle and Maxwell Lightwood. I was born in-_

Alec's thoughts were lost in a sudden whirl of colors and sounds. He felt as if he were falling, falling, falling into a tunnel of memories…_his_ memories. Images flashed past, days he'd long forgotten, nights he'd lost to dreams. Alec saw a child version of himself sitting at a scrubbed wooden stable, shelling peas, standing in a field watching sheep graze, milking a cow. He saw Isabelle as a little girl, chasing him around and around the old pine tree that grew behind their house, saw himself holding little baby Max.

But there was more. He was older now, old enough to hunt. His father was with him and they were out in the woods. He watched while his father heft high a bow and string it with an arrow. He saw the light glint off the tip, saw the string taught, saw the tension is every line of his father's body and he knew that this was his life. The arrow was released with a snap, it flew through the air, straight and true. Straight and true…

He was a young man now, hunting on his own, going to market with his father to sell their wares, thinking nervously of the time when he would have to leave their home. Alec didn't want to leave the farm or the country; he liked the small rivers, the sloping meadows, the way the leaves turned red and gold at the season's turn. This place was his home, this small spit of dirt and grass was all he'd ever need.

But it was gone. There were the horrible cries, the screams, the sounds of terror. All around him was fire and chaos. His mother was crying at him to take Isabelle and Max and run, she was watching out the window of their house frantically for their father. Alec saw a mounted soldier shoot by, then another, and another, and he wondered why they had come. What did they want? He scooped up Max, and he took Isabelle's hand and he fled into the darkness, into the madness, into the flames, and he turned, and the farmhouse was alight, throwing sparks up into the night like falling stars.

Alec was running, dragging Isabelle along behind him, and Max was wailing, and the screams and the terror seemed to stalk them like a pack of wolves. Somehow, he knew that he'd never see his parents again. His mother was trapped in the house as the flames ate it, and his father never did come home. Somehow, that pain and that loss was consumed by the fire too, and he'd managed to keep going. But now it came back, sharp as any dagger, thrust into his heart.

In the hall, Isabelle saw Alec double up in agony.

But Alec was still there, trapped in that night. He was leading Isabelle and Max as fast as he could from the town, into the woods, into the safety the trees offered. Behind them, the sounds women crying, men roaring, and fire snapping filled the air, chased them on. Alec led them faster, desperate the flee, and they broke the cover of the forest at the bank of a river.

The river was too deep, too wide, impossible to cross. Alec could feel Max sobbing and he saw his sister standing in the moonlight looking lost and small, and he knew it had been his duty to protect them. And he had failed.

The sounds of hooves, shouted orders, broke their silence and Alec frantically sought a place to hide. There was none, though, and when three mounted soldiers left the forest, they found the Lightwood children quite unprotected and helpless. One looked at Isabelle hungrily, and Alec put himself between the two. He expected to die then, he thought that this was surely it, but it wasn't. He and his siblings were bound in rope and brought back.

Alec saw country flash before his eyes, saw villages and towns, saw the sky line the palace cut against the setting sun. He was brought to the palace and all those memories of fields and countries were replaced with the cold, hard stone walls of the palace; he knew only the slow, degrading life of a servant, and it was misery.

Isabelle, who was still standing alone before the Clave watched as Alec fell to his knees, and she gave a startled cry and tried to hold him. "Alec…" she whispered. "Alec, I'm here." But he heard nothing.

The days of Alec's memory were dark, fraught with countless moments of fear and humiliation. There was nothing for him here in this hell but his sister and brother. It wasn't until Jace came along that he saw any glimmer of hope, and with Jace came his introduction to the Royal Physician.

_Magnus,_ Alec thought, and some of pain he was feeling faded.

A burst of images rushed back: Magnus healing his arm, speaking softly, considering their escape, leading him to Alicante, the nights they'd spent in the library, working together, the strange, reassuring warmth he'd felt in the pit of his stomach whenever Magnus was nearby.

_Stop this,_ Alec wanted to scream, his thoughts of Magnus spurring him on. _Stop it, now!_

It was as if that one order was heard through the two Brothers, and a fissure ran through them. Suddenly, Alec was back in his body, and he heard Isabelle beside him, whispering his name. Beneath him, the cold floor was pushing back his confusion and he welcomed the sharpness of it.

"Isabelle," he croaked softly. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" she laughed softly. "Are _you_?"

Alec's eyes darted to Magnus, who was watching him, worry in his gaze. _Magnus_. "I will be." It didn't matter now to Alec if the Silent Brothers knew he loved Magnus, and it didn't matter if they wouldn't accept him as a shadowhunter, he knew what he wanted. His gaze moved back to the two Silent Brothers. "Are you happy?"

There was a long silence, then, _You are found to be true of heart of mind, Alexander Lightwood. You may join our ranks._

Using Isabelle to help support him, Alec stood and viewed the two Brothers. "Then I thank you."

One of the Iron Sisters stepped forward, holding the knife in both her hands. "Your arm, Alexander Lightwood, to Mark." Alec held it out, his heart pounding all the same. She took his wrist in a grasp much stronger than he thought such a small woman could, and placed the tip of the knife to his skin. He felt a burn like a kiss. "You swear, Alexander Lightwood, to forever follow the Angel in his quest against Demon-kind? You will put yourself before the innocents to defend this world from the Dark?"

"I will," said Alec.

"Then it shall be," the Iron Sister answered, and pressed the tip of the knife into his skin, a permanent Mark, flaring to life.


	10. Children of the Angel

Children of the Angel

Clary watched Jonathan slice into the cut of meat before him, blood oozing out of the rare steak, and swallowed back her cries of pain. She strained against the bonds holding her to her chair, but they didn't budge; across from her, Jace looked just as frustrated and disgusted with Jonathan as she felt. Clary tried to reach out for Jace, seeking the comfort of his presence, and a small flame unfurled in her chest. Jace met her eyes, having felt the same spreading warmth, but Clary felt another spike of pain shoot up her arm and she moaned.

"Don't worry, I'll leave you some, Clary," Jonathan said, smiling cordially at her. "I am quite famished, though, after all the fun we had today."

Clary swallowed back any more sounds of pain. "Jonathan, untie Jace and I; we won't go anywhere, we'll stay here with you for dinner. Please, it's painful to sit like this." _You know it's painful, that's why you did it, but please, stop it now._

"Well, I would, Clary-usually. However, there are some delicate matters we three need to discuss and I don't want you…jumping to conclusions." Jonathan laughed at his own joke. "Best you _sit down_ when you hear it."

"This isn't funny, Jonathan," Jace growled, and Clary watched him tug uselessly on the ropes holding him. "Let us up."

Jonathan seemed to consider his words. "Well…no. No, it's best you sit tight. Here, have a sip of wine." Jonathan poured Jace a glass of dark, red wine and smiled invitingly. When Jace stared at the glass, clearly beyond his reach, Jonathan looked concerned. "You don't like merlot? It is an acquired taste and you are young. Perhaps, something sweeter, like a white? Or maybe some whiskey?"

"Jonathan!" Clary shrieked as her arm flared again. When she looked at it, she saw the veins around her wound were turning black with poisoning. "This isn't funny."

"I know," Jonathan agreed, looking put out. "I don't know _what _Jace wants to drink. Horribly rude of me, really."

_It's just a game, a game the demon is playing,_ Clary thought miserably. _It won't let us go till we're begging for it._ "You said you had something important to tell us about Valentine before you tied us up. What is it?"

"Best spoken of after a full meal," Jonathan said sagely.

"Since we're not eating," Jace said testily.

"Best spoken of after a full meal _for me_, I should have said," Jonathan corrected. "I'm the one doing the telling, after all. You two are just sitting there." Again, Jonathan broke into laughter. "Just sit _tight_, I'll eat, and then we'll have nice little _sit down_, and mull a few things over."

"Shtick ruins my appetite," Jace sniffed.

"Really?" Jonathan turned serious. "Because disrespectful, worthless brats ruin mine. The only difference between you and me is that I bet you don't flay a poor comedian to within an inch of life, do you?"

"Eat quickly, then, Jonathan," said Clary before Jace opened his mouth again.

Jonathan's eyes never left Jace's, but he smiled again. "Of course, Clary."

Jonathan turned back to his food, cutting off a chunk of his meat and placing it in his mouth with relish. He sipped his wine, chomped his meat and wiped his mouth, red juices streaming down his chin. As he ate, he kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly about the court life, the current state of Idris, and the people he ruled. He mentioned the Great Goddess every now and then, horrible hints, but that was all. Clary could feel her arm burning more and more, the pain shooting farther and farther up her arm into her chest. Jace, who was becoming more and more furious with Jonathan, kept straining back and forth against his bonds.

At one point, Jonathan glanced over Jace's way. "You really need to relax, Jace. It can't be good for you, all this struggling and stress."

Jace slumped in his seat, but his eyes were still on Jonathan. "If you'd loosen my bonds, it would be great."

Jonathan smirked but just stuffed another piece of meat into his mouth. "Jonathan, please," Clary said, glancing down at her arm. "It hurts."

"I'm aware of that," Jonathan said slowly, but he seemed to be getting bored of the meal. At least it was more interesting to torment them. "Aline!" The small girl came scurrying in, staring at the floor. "Get these plates out of the way."

Aline came forward and began plucking up the plates and glasses. Clary tried to meet her eye, tried to reassure her, but the girl was in a state of terror. She ran off with the dishes clutched in her arm like a life vest, and Clary felt a small twinge of sympathy for the girl. Jonathan watched her go and then smiled kindly at Clary and Jace.

"So, you say you know what Valentine did to me?" Jonathan asked. "You know he dosed me with demon blood."

"Jonathan, you should know why-"

"I don't care why," Jonathan said sharply, speaking over his sister. "I only care that he did it, and how it has affected me. You see it, don't you? I am the best warrior you will ever meet, the strongest, the fastest, the best skilled." His eyes moved to Jace. "Nothing to say?"

Jace looked at Clary and then back to Jonathan. "I know the life you live, and I wouldn't have given up my soul for it."

This seemed to disappoint Jonathan, who frowned. "I have an affinity for demons as well. You must see how they have…_taken _to me. They trust me, they believe I will lead them to victory over this pathetic little spit of life. And I will."

Clary swallowed. "Jonathan, you need to know the truth. You need to know _why _Valentine poisoned you."

"I honestly don't care, Clary," Jonathan said, and his eyes sparkled. "I have Greater Demon blood."

"Whose blood?" Jace asked swiftly, and his eyes were glimmering. "Who was it?"

Jonathan laughed. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Jace; just know that it is the Greatest of all Greater Demons. The Great Mother."

_The Great Mother,_ Jace thought. _The Greatest of all Greater Demon. Who are you…?_

"But do you think Valentine started with me?" Jonathan looked to Clary. "You can make runes, Clary, and you thought you were just born with that gift? You stupid, little girl…"

Clary felt her mouth drop. "I do _not _have Greater Demon blood!"

"No, you don't," agreed Jonathan. "But you're not wholly human either. After I'd killed Valentine, the first thing I did was examine his private study. I thought that if there were any secrets to the kingdom, they would be stored there. I found nothing, of course, concerning Idris or the shadowhunters. However, I did find an interesting book; any idea what it might have been?"

Clary and Jace exchanged a look. "No," Clary said after a beat. "Our father never expressed any interest in writing books."

"True enough, but still." Jonathan looked down at his hands, smiling a little to himself. "It was a journal, a journal of his experiments on us. Can you imagine what it said?"

"_Us_?" Jace said a little loudly. "Your father never had contact with my mother."

Jonathan sneered. "If h didn't have contact with your mother, how did he arrange the betrothal between you and my sister?" When Jace glowered, Jonathan merely laughed. "You were his first experiment, actually, Jace. Long before he poisoned me, it was your mother he was dosing with blood."

In the back of Clary's mind, a memory was fighting forward; something that seemed like years ago, something Hodge had said at Woodend. _Celine and Jocelyn had both been suffering from severe morning illness, and he had mentioned an old family recipe, one from his mother. A powder to mix into your morning tea that might assuage the sickness. _Clary felt her stomach flip and her eyes moved irrevocably to Jace, who looked at her, confused.

"Something to share with us, sister?" Jonathan asked with a smirk. "Keeping secrets?"

"It's something Hodge said…" she murmured, and Jace's eyebrows were raised.

"What did Hodge say?"

"He said my father gave your mother a remedy for morning sickness, a powder, and she would drink it in her morning tea." Clary turned to Jonathan. "What was it, the powder?"

"The most valuable substance a shadowhunter could have," Jonathan murmured softly. "Angel blood."

"_Angel blood_?" Jace and Clary gasped at the same time.

"Oh, yes," said Jonathan with a grin. "Dried angel blood. He wanted to see what it might do to a shadowhunter. He kept quite good records, too. In himself, it didn't work at all, so he sent some around to your mother, and would have Jocelyn ask her monthly how the pregnancy was. Congratulations, Jace, you are the Angel Boy."

There was something in Jonathan's voice that made Clary look closer at her brother. _What must that be like? _Clary wondered. _Our own father poisoned you and gifted another?_ But that thought was driven quickly out by another, terrible idea. _You are a demon boy and Jace the angel boy…you are natural enemies. _"You said _us_," Clary said quickly. "You meant we were all changed; what else happened?"

Jonathan looked uninterested. "Well, it was too late to give me the blood since it only seems to have an effect in the womb, so Valentine didn't have anyone to test it on. When Jocelyn told him she was pregnant again, he began dosing her with the blood, and so you were born. Did you never wonder where your gift with runes came from?" Clary swallowed. "It wasn't until the very end, before Jocelyn left him, that he procured the demon blood and poisoned me. But, if you think about it, I didn't serve many other purposes; it was too late to give me the angel blood, and he'd already gotten himself a boy and girl with it. I'm sure he approved of your betrothal just to see the child you two begot."

_Betrayed by our father, _Clary thought pitifully. _I was the Angel girl and Jace the Angel boy, the future of our people. You had every right to be bitter. _"Jonathan, what our father did was wrong-"

"Wrong?" Jonathan barked. "I didn't say it was _wrong_, Clary; oh, no, I didn't say that. If anything, I'm grateful Valentine gave me the demon blood, and why wouldn't I be? Look what I have become?" Jonathan stood suddenly, and Clary felt her stomach twist. "I am the greatest warrior to walk this mortal world! I am the most feared man who has ever lived. I have at my back an army of the damned, infinite in malice and power. No, Clary, I do not regret what he made me."

Jace was staring at Jonathan, his mind still trying to work through his own revelation. _I have angel blood in me…more angle blood than any other shadowhunter alive. No wonder I could fight, no wonder I was the best. _Still, it was hard to grasp, the concept of being more than a little inhuman. _And, Clary, she had the angel blood too…the two of us have it, the two angel children._

"If we really are the descendents of angels," said Jace, "why have you spared us at all? Isn't it natural for you to hate us?"

Jonathan's gaze flickered. "It is in my nature to want you dead, true, but I am not a slave to my nature, Jace. Us three, we're Valentine Morgenstern's experiments, we are unique in this world of mortals; we are like gods."

"And what does that mean?" Clary ventured carefully.

"It means I will not kill you," Jonathan answered, stalking around the table like a prowling wolf. "I would have you two live with me, my friends if you consent, or my slaves if you refuse. We are bound together by our blood, bound by the strangeness in us, the power."

"No," said Jace firmly, and Jonathan glared at him. "We're not like you, Jonathan. Clary and I are the children of angels, not damned. You are alone."

It was the wrong thing to say. Jonathan grabbed a hunk of Jace's hair and jerked his head back so he had to look up at Jonathan. His eyes were aglow with a manic light, completely black, and his teeth were bared. Jace thought his face looked oddly animal-like. "If you will not join me willingly," he spat, "You will serve me. Do not fool yourself, Jace, I will destroy this world, and everything in it, and what will you do then? When all light has been extinguished and all life has been purged, where will you turn? You will have no one else to go to but me."

Clary and Jace shared a horrified look. "But, you can't!" Clary exclaimed, tugging on her ropes uselessly. "Jonathan, please, don't do this. You don't have to do these things, you can have friends without it."

Jonathan didn't release Jace but his gaze flicked over to Clary. "Excuse me?"

"You want companions?" Clary asked, her eyes meeting Jace's frantic gaze; he nodded his head ever so slightly. "Jace and I, we can be your friends, but not by force."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed at that. "You expect me to believe you, Clary? You think that if I let you go, you wouldn't run at first chance?"

Clary struggled again. "It's the truth, Jonathan. Jace and I, we'll stay here with you and be your courtiers; you won't have to make us."

Jonathan's hold on Jace diminished, but he was smiling that strange, bent smile that didn't seem to fit his face. "I could, but it's easier my way, Clary. When you have no one and nowhere to turn to, you will _have_ to be my courtiers. Until then, you will keep on this way: as my servants. Just wait, you'll see how much you like it; by the time I've finished with the pathetic shadowhunters, you'll be happy to join me."

Jace was watching him in mute horror. _Cursed to be a demon's companion for the rest our lives._ "Our friends will come for us, you know."

"I have no doubt," Jonathan said indifferently. "But have no fear, my friends, I won't let them take you. I'll keep you safely tucked away."

_Keep us safe?_ Jace frowned and looked to Clary who was split between staring at Jonathan and checking her arm. "You can't keep us forever, Jonathan," Jace warned. "No matter what, we'll go one day."

Jonathan eyes twinkled. "We'll see about that, won't we," Jonathan mused. "I have an unbelievable wealth of knowledge at my fingertips; all I must do is ask. Rest assured, I will find a way to have what I want. And I want you."

Clary looked up from her arm. _How lonely are you? How horrible must it be if you're forcing your sister and the man you hate to be your friends? _"I already told you, Jonathan, we'd stay with you-"

"For how long?" Jonathan rounded on her. "I know at first chance you two would run, but I'm not going to risk it. No…no you're best kept here with me." Jonathan had stopped circling them now and was watching them, contemplatively. "Until that time, I think I'll have to keep you two on a shorter leash. It's for your own good, really."

"What do you mean?" Jace asked sharply. "We're already in your castle. We're nowhere to go, and no way of running."

Jonathan chuckled. "After that little stunt you pulled in my court today? I think not; I think I've given you too much freedom. From now on I'll keep you in my eye."

"If your plan is to keep us alive, you're doing a poor job of it," said Jace swiftly. "Clary needs help."

Jonathan's eyes flickered. "After we're through here I'll fix her arm. Now, give me a moment, sit tight."

Jonathan left then, smiling to himself; Jace watched him go, eyes fixed on his vanishing form before turning to Clary. "Clary, how's your arm?" It was a formality because Jace could feel Clary's arm burning in his own.

Clary's head lolled back and she met Jace's eyes. "It's in my blood now, I can feel it." Clary swallowed. "Do you think it's true…what he said about us?"

Jace glanced out the window and saw the setting sun behind the grey clouds and angry sky. "About having angel blood? It seems insane, but…I've never met a person who could make new runes, and I've never met someone aside from Jonathan with as much skill as I have. It could be true."

Clary strained weakly against the bonds holding her again and then sagged uselessly. "Why hasn't Jonathan killed us then? He's got Greater demon blood in him; he should want us dead."

"You heard him," Jace said, jerking his head at the place where Jonathan had left. "He wants to keep us around him just because he wants to have friends. I just don't know how far he's going to take it."

"We have to stop him, Jace," Clary panted as her arm burned again. "He's going to destroy everything just because. We've got to make him understand it's not worth it."

"And how to you propose to do that?" Jace asked. "We're stuck here, Clary, and Jonathan doesn't want us leaving."

Clary shuddered. "He's just lonely is all, you heard him. If we give him what he wants, if we be his friends and do what he asks of us, he'll start to trust us."

"And what if he asks us to do something we don't want to do?" Jace demanded, looking at her meaningfully. "What if he asks us for something we're not willing to give?"

Clary worried her bottom lip. "We're have to deal with those hurtles when we come to them. Whatever demon is controlling him, it's going to try and feed off of his desire for companionship; we just have to be unwavering in it. No matter what he does, we can't pull away; if we do, he'll think we hate him and he'll just get more angry and suspicious."

Jace slumped. "It'll feed the demon, it's true, if we try to escape from him; he already thinks we hate him." Jace paused and considered what he had heard so far. "He keeps mentioning the demon, the Greater demon who gave him blood."

"The Great Mother, he called her," Clary hedged. "A woman demon with great power…Jace, we need to figure out who she is."

"Jonathan won't tell us," Jace said. "It's his secret, and I'm sure whoever she is, she won't let him tell. We need to speak to one of her followers."

Clary shook her head. "There are none. It's all demons in the castle and they won't be telling us secrets. We'd have to leave the palace and go out into the city, and Jonathan is never going to let us leave."

Jace looked thoughtful. "We'll just have to find someone in the castle who has converted the religion."

"Maybe we can get down to the kitchen," said Clary, dropping her voice. "Maybe we can speak to one of the slaves who still live-"

"What are you two whispering about now?" Jonathan had returned, and at his heels was the vicious three headed demon dog; is snarled, sensing its master's disapproval. "It's not polite to keep secrets, especially from a friend."

"Clary needs help, Jonathan," said Jace after a beat.

"Indeed," he answered and came to join them. "Now, I'm going to let you both go, but you're to stay in this room. If you try to run, I'm sure my trusted companion can keep you in check." The demon dog growled for extra measure. "Clary, I'll let you up first."

Clary watched Jonathan slice through the ropes binding her to the chair, but she didn't have the strength to move again. While Clary sat limply in her seat, Jonathan unbound Jace. "Can we go back to the room?" Jace asked cautiously.

"No," said Jonathan, and he moved back to Clary, lifting her up from beneath her arms. "No, you'll be staying in here from now on." Jonathan dragged Clary like a rag doll across the room to the fire mantle and dropped her there. She rolled over just in time to see him produce a length of find, sturdy, chain. He looped a section of it around her ankle and tightened it until it cut into her foot before taking the other end and fastening it to the mantle. There seemed to be a lot of slack, enough for Clary to move around, but she tugged it uselessly and knew it wouldn't break. "Jace, would you care to join me?"

"No," said Jace stoutly, but the demon dog snarled and snapped its jaws, lunging at Jace. "But, since it seems I have no options…" Jace crossed the room and stood before Jonathan stubbornly. "What are you doing with us, Jonathan?"

Jonathan twirled the end of a chain around, smiling openly at Jace. "I'm keeping you two safe, Jace. You should be grateful really. Now, come here and sit by your wife." Jonathan directed Jace to a spot on the floor by Clary, who was now withering in pain.

Jace sank down and drew Clary to his side, rubbing her cheeks. "Clary, look at me."

Jonathan looped a length of chain around Jace's ankle and tightened it painfully. "Don't worry, Jace, I'll set sweet, little Clary to rights."

Jace glowered at the smirking boy and before he could tell him off, Jonathan had knelt down before Clary and yanked her from Jace's grasp. Clary started to struggle when she saw Jonathan leering down on her. "Jonathan…_please_, my arm."

"I know," he said in a strangely gentle voice. His fingers probed the arm, looking at the black veins. He hummed sympathetically when Clary groaned. "I know, I know it hurts, but it'll all be over soon."

"You hate me enough to let me suffer, but love me enough to not let me die…?" Clary croaked, watching Jonathan feel the bite mark. He only smiled at her words but continued to explore her arm, after a moment, he looked up and gave her a wink.

"Don't worry, it'll be a quick fix, I just need a little donation from your lover." Jonathan's hand shot out and took Jace's arm. "You don't mind terribly, do you, Jace?" Jace didn't even bother answering, he just held out his arm. When Jonathan sliced it open, he watched as his blood dribbled out into a small bowl Jonathan brought. He added a number of herbs and water to it that fumed and frothed. Before their eyes, the liquid simmered down and turn faint golden. Jonathan smiled bitterly at the liquid. "As I said, angel blood."

Through the haze of pain, Clary watched Jonathan dip a cloth into the bowl and then carefully clean the cut on her arm. She gasped, more in shock than anything else, as she felt a pleasant burning, like the kiss of an ember of a fire; it raced up her arm, burning clarity into her mind. She leaned back, sighed in pleasure, but it was few minutes before she realized what it was Jonathan had actually had done.

_He used Jace's blood to heal the demon poisoning, _she thought wonderingly, and her eyes moved to his. Jace was looking just as shocked as she was feeling. _It's not possible, Jonathan was lying…_

"Look at you, Clary," Jonathan snorted. "You're looking better already. Jace, come here, look after her while I'm with the court."

Jace came closer, watching Jonathan cautiously, as if expecting the other boy to lunge at him for no reason. However, Jonathan just laughed again and then dropped Clary; she slapped back on the floor and groaned, rolling over. He stood up and looked down on his two prisoners with a bit of a smirk and then brushed off his pants.

"You're leaving us here?" Jace asked, joining Clary and letting her rest her head on his lap. "After all that, after everything you just said, you're going to leave us here?"

Jonathan smiled. "You should take this time to recover yourself; we have plans in a few days and you'll want to be on your feet by then."

"Plans?" Jace pressed.

"Yes," Jonathan answered with his usual grin. "Yes, quite entertaining too." Then he turned and left, leaving a very worried Jace in his wake.

"Well, you heard him, Clary," Jace said, supporting her head. "Apparently, we have plans."

Clary coughed and rolled over so her head was nestled between Jace's knees. "We've a few days yet…enough time for us to try and find someone who knows about this Great Goddess."

Jace relaxed back against the mantle and considered their options. "Well, we did have a chance, but I don't think Jonathan is going to let us leave unless we're with him. Unless someone comes to us, I think we're quite abandoned."

"He can't leave us alone," Clary murmured, but a small leaf of fear unfurled in her chest. "He'll send us someone…"

"You really think so?"

Clary met Jace's eyes and was about to speak when a sound, like a squeak of a small animal, drew her attention. Aline was peeking beyond the door, staring around the room with a look of mute terror; when her eyes found Jace and Clary, she blinked and bit her lip. In her hands, Clary spotted a small plate with bread and cheese, and a jug of what must have been water.

"Aline?" Clary asked, and the girl jumped. "Aline, it's okay, come here. Jonathan is gone now."

Jace glanced toward Clary, wondering what she was thinking. Aline came in on her toes, peering around her like she expected some horrible creature to pounce from the shadows and attack her. She rushed forward, skidding to a halt before Jace and Clary. "I-I brought you food."

"Thank you," Jace said, and gestured to a patch of floor beside him. "Sit, if you like. Clary and I can't go anywhere."

Aline eyed the floor and then sank down cautiously. "Are you two going to live here now?"

"Probably," said Jace. "Jonathan wants to keep a closer eye on us, but you can still come visit."

"We'd love for you to come visit," said Clary quickly, struggling to sit up. "Aline, you're the only friend we have here, you know. It would be such a loss to us if we never got to see you again."

Aline pushed the food forward. "I'm still going to serve you," she mumbled.

"That's good," said Clary, picking up a small piece of bread. "You've always been so helpful to me, even before, when my father was still alive."

"I want to help you, mistress," Aline intoned.

"Do you?" said Clary, meeting Aline's eyes. "Because there is something…something I need from someone I can trust, but now, there are so few people who I believe really are loyal to me."

"What do you need, mistress?" asked Aline, moving just a little closer.

Clary looked down. It was a cruel thing to do, but when faced with the destruction of the world… "Jonathan is being controlled by a demon, by…the Great Goddess." As she expected, Aline jumped and glanced around nervously, her hands twitching. "Aline, Aline, it's alright, no one is going to hurt you."

"Clary," Jace warned, having seen Aline in a panic.

"I _trust_ her, Jace," Clary said meaningfully. "She's the only one in this whole castle who can help us anymore."

"She thinks she's in danger," Jace hissed.

"She's not in danger," said Clary loudly, "not so long as you and I are with her. You heard Jonathan, we've got the blood of the Angel. We're the children of the Angel, we can protect her."

Jace looked uncertain, but he knew as well as Clary that there was little hope of stopping Jonathan if they didn't even know which demon it was that was controlling him. "You're right, I suppose, but it'll be dangerous."

"There are some things more important than danger," Clary said in a hard voice. She turned back to Aline and took her trembling hands "Aline, I know you're scared, and I know you think you can't, but we need your help. Without you, Aline, Jace and I, and all our friends and family, will die."

Aline blinked slowly, staring at Clary's fingers entwined in hers. "Wh-what do you want me to do?"

"We need to know who she is, Aline, we need to know who the Great Goddess is."


	11. Hope Ascending

Hope Ascending

As the edge of blade came toward her, Isabelle spun away, whipping her own sword out as she turned. Though she didn't see it, she heard the satisfying clang of metal on metal and knew her aim had been true. As Isabelle came out of the turn, her attacker lunged forward and she drew the other blade up to meet them. Again, the satisfying sound of pounding metal. Suddenly, though, it didn't' seem enough to Isabelle to hear the defensive blows again and again.

_I'll never kill that bastard Jonathan if I'm hiding behind my sword, _Isabelle thought fiercely. _All this guarding is useless! _Urged on by her thoughts, Isabelle began to move forward, meeting her partner blow for blow, but becoming steadily more aggressive.

It was such wonderful liberation, mindless fighting! Isabelle could feel her blood pounding, her muscles tensing and flexing as she moved seamlessly from stance to stance, her mind processing information faster than she really understood. It was like being caught in a current too powerful to fight, a current that pushed you whichever direction it chose. Isabelle laughed and pressed onward. Across from her, her partner, a young shadowhunter looked at her, startled.

_I really deserve a better sparring partner than this, _she thought, blocking one of the blows directed at her and slithering closer into the shadowhunter's defense. _I'm faster, stronger, and more agile than him. They just think I'm too weak._

Isabelle launched herself at the young man across from her, each of her blows more and more forceful, each one with more and more energy. She saw her partner's arm shiver under the force of her attack, and she knew victory was almost there. Faster, much faster than before, she began to twirl around, forcing him to try and follow her but failing; she jumped lithely, landing on her toes and kept going. Finally, in a desperate attempt to catch her, Isabelle's partner overstretched his arm and she attacked.

One moment, Isabelle was a foot away, swinging her blades in a threatening manner, the next she had passed beneath his reach and was only an inch or so from his face. The tip of her blade was positioned over his beating heart, and she was smiling. "I believe you just died."

The man swallowed and then smiled slowly. "Well done."

Isabelle tossed her hair back. "Yes, well, next time, try actually attacking me; I felt like we were dancing, not fighting."

He laughed. "A dance for you, but for me, it's my life! Let's just hope you don't step on anyone's toes."

The joke raised a smile from Isabelle's usual concentrated frown. "I plan to."

"In that case-"

"Lightwood!" Isabelle and the young man jerked apart as Jai approached them, her face set in a scowl. "What do you think you were doing?"

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Well, I thought I was sparring, but I must be mistaken."

"I _told_ you," Jai growled, "you are to learn to defend yourself. You're _not _ready to start offensive training yet. You have to master the stances and maneuvers, first."

"What's the point?" Isabelle demanded, tossing her hair back. "I'm not planning on hiding while my opponent attacks me. How many demons out there let me recover myself before they attack? Besides, I think I can handle a little more by now."

"Well, I think not, and I'm the instructor," Jai answered shrewdly. "You may have some formal training, but you're nowhere near ready enough as you might think. You must build up your endurance, your stamina, teach yourself to endure."

"Endurance?" Isabelle snorted. "For what? How long can a fight possibly last?"

Jai shook her head. "You're thinking like a child, Isabelle. It doesn't matter _how long_ the fight lasts, it matter _how much_ of it lasts." When Isabelle stared at her in confusion, Jai waved the young man off and took Isabelle aside. "When you see a predator in nature, how does it hunt?"

"What do you mean?" Isabelle furrowed her brow.

"A wolf," said Jai. "When the wolf hunts, it doesn't attack at once, not if it can help it. There's no point in wasting its energy for a fast kill when it can wait it out. A wolf will stalk its prey for days before it strikes, just because the kill is so easy then. A burst of energy rarely gets the wolf somewhere, does it?"

Isabelle sighed. "But what's the point?"

"Why does the wolf conserve its energy?" Jai waited for Isabelle to answer, but she shrugged. "Because there are many struggles in its life, many trials, and it cannot dedicate itself solely to the hunt. The wolf must also remember to give some of itself to survival. _You _must remember that, Isabelle, or what will happen to you? What if you slay the demon, but are far from civilization, or are injured, or have no food? You must remember that killing the demon is half the battle; the other half is living to fight another one."

_There's only one demon I want to kill, _thought Isabelle. _And his name is Jonathan._

"Besides, you must remember your limits," said Jai. "I know you must tire of hearing this, but you have only recently turned, and you're not ready for the physical trials of being a shadowhunter just yet."

"I'm not a human," said Isabelle flatly.

"No, but you're not yet a shadowhunter, either," said Jai with a sigh. "You are dismissed for the day, Isabelle; there's no point in keeping you here when you're just going to murder my students."

Isabelle bowed stiffly. "Yes, Jai," she said, and replaced her weapons with the collection in the training room. "I'll be here tomorrow, bright and early."

"I know you will be," said Jai with a tired smile. As Isabelle left, Jai watched her and wished her other students had half the drive Isabelle had. _Give her two months, three at most, and she'll be ready for battle-but I'll never tell her that._

Isabelle privately felt that she was ready to face a demon already, but though it would have been rather presumptuous to say as much. Instead, she and her brother had enrolled in lessons, and, after a preliminary test, were both placed in very competitive, challenging classes. Isabelle had been mightily pleased with this, and she hoped beyond hope that she would soon be allowed out on patrols. Until that time, though, she contended herself with torturing the rest of her classmates.

As Isabelle left the training center, someone called her name. "Isabelle! Isabelle _Lightwood_!"

Isabelle spun about. It was her partner, the young man she had bested. Her lips turned up. "Hello."

"I was hoping I might catch you," he said, jogging up to her side. "My name is Roderick, by the way."

"And why were you hoping that?" asked Isabelle airily.

"What are you doing this evening? A group of us are going to a local bar in the city for drinking and dancing and anything else." Roderick surveyed Isabelle closely. "Do you want to come?"

_Shouldn't we be training?_ Isabelle wanted to snap. _There is a war approaching, and if we lose, all life as we know it will perish, and you want to go out dancing with me?_ "I'm sorry, but I have a prior engagement."

Roderick's face fell a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Another time then? I've never met a shadowhunter like you before; you're great with those knives." Isabelle began walking again, but Roderick kept pace with her. "Is it true you and your brother were humans only a week ago?"

Isabelle nodded sharply. "We were training before that."

"I heard about that too," he said conversationally. "Everyone's buzzing about it. You came here with the Herondales, didn't you? "

The thought of Clary and Jace made Isabelle's heart beat painfully. "I did, yes."

"Is it true you lived in the palace with Valentine and his son?" Roderick's eyes were gleaming. "And that you went back there only a month ago for the Cup?"

"You know the answer to that," said Isabelle, exasperated.

"It was a brave thing you did," said Roderick. "To face the Demon King himself."

"Jonathan Morgenstern is no _demon king_," said Isabelle. "He's a spoiled prince who murdered his father for the throne, and he wants everything his way."

"Like the Herondales?"

"_What_?" Isabelle drew to a halt, spinning on Roderick. She thought quickly, frantically, of the ceremony where her mind had been picked apart; she had made sure to hide the truth of Clary and Jonathan's horrible relationship. If the Silent Brothers had seen the truth and mentioned it…had she betrayed Clary's trust? "_What do you mean_?"

Roderick looked shocked for a moment. "Only that everyone's saying Jonathan is holding the Herondales prisoner in his palace."

_He doesn't know…_ "Yes," said Isabelle, breathing out. "Yes, it's the truth. Clary is his sister, and since he doesn't know his mother is alive, he took her and Jace. I think he's rather lonely and wanted some living company."

"What was he like? Jonathan, I mean," said Roderick as Isabelle's face returned to its impassive contemplativeness.

"I didn't know him well," said Isabelle shortly, whishing the boy would go. "When I lived in the castle, my brother and I were servants, and when I did see him, he never spoke to me."

Roderick chuckled. "I can't really picture you as a servant."

Isabelle drew to a halt, giving Roderick a sharp look. "Have you only waited for me just so you could worm some interesting gossip out of me? Or was there something else you actually _wanted_?"

"If you're too busy to go out with us tonight, what about the day after next?" Roderick smiled dauntlessly. "We're a fun bunch, and I'm sure-"

"I'm really not interested," sniffed Isabelle. "There's too much work to be done here, leastways."

"Not interested, or _previously engaged_?" asked Roderick, his smile faded but a determined glint in his eye.

"Both, if you must know," she answered curtly. "Now, if you'll excuse me." Before he could say more, Isabelle spun on her heel and hurried away.

_You'd think, _Isabelle thought as she passed away from the training center and into the city proper, _that with a war approaching that could determine the fate of this world, the shadowhunters would be a bit keener to train, and less interested in the daily gossip. _

The truth, though, was that people _had _been asking her and Alec about their association to Clary and Jace ever since they'd entered into formal training. People were curious, to say the least, about who they were, where they had come from, how they had met Clary and Jace, and what they had seen of the outside world. Isabelle hated it, and not just because she thought is demeaned her, but because it brought to light many painful memories. Her only thought since the Clave had agreed to Ascension had been rescuing Clary and Jace from Jonathan; she had made an oath, and she had every intention of keeping it. But whenever people asked her about them, it only opened wider the hole in her heart where they had been, as well as stoked her fears.

Since their escape from the castle, Isabelle had been haunted by dreams of Clary and Jace's fate. She often wondered what Jonathan had done to them, and if they were well. Isabelle worried, too, that Jonathan had returned to his old habits and had begun again his sick, violent advances on Clary. She could never forget the look on Clary's face when she recalled her brother, and it was that look that drove Isabelle relentlessly to train.

_I'm going to find them,_ Isabelle told herself firmly. _I'm going to train, I'm going to march into that castle, and I'm going to get them back. _But a small voice in the back of her mind whispered, _If they're still alive. _

That was probably the worst thought, and the only that plagued Isabelle most. She was sure Jonathan wouldn't have killed them, but…but what if he had? He despised Jace more than any other person she knew, and would have welcomed a chance to have Clary all to himself. Not to mention that if Jocelyn had told the truth, Jonathan was being controlled by a demon, and why would the demon care if Clary and Jace died? And even if they were alive, Isabelle feared that Jonathan might have worked some horrible torture on them, destroying the two friends she had known and leaving behind two broken souls.

_They're alive,_ she said firmly. _They're alive and Jonathan hasn't hurt them. Not too much._

As she pushed onward though the city, though, her thoughts of Clary and Jace were driven away by a large crowd gathered around what looked like a shadowhunter. As she passed, she caught an earful of what the man was saying.

"…we welcome new members to the Clave, and reward them handsomely. It is the highest honor in the land, grander than lords or ladies, for we are the defenders of this mortal world."

_Welcome new members?_ thought Isabelle, rolling her eyes. _You weren't so keen for me and Alec. _

Since the successful Ascension of Isabelle and Alec, the Clave had begun advertising their cause: Accepting new applicants seeking Ascension. They had pressed both the Lightwoods to speak on their behalf, but Isabelle had refused point-blank, saying she needed to train. Alec had been spared a response when Magnus had loudly argued to objectifying two children. Still, the Clave had set to work fast, and already, men and women were chomping at the bit to join their ranks, to have a better grasp of the war, and, most important, to better their own station.

_Human to shadowhunter, and all it takes is a drink from a cup._ Still, Isabelle wasn't bitter because it had opened one other door, the only other one aside from Clary and Jace she was interested in.

The quiet neighborhood where Simon had made himself a home was on the opposite side of the city from the shadowhunters' quarters, but Isabelle had lived here once and knew the roads well. She passed a few familiar houses, stores, stables, but didn't stop to greet anyone. When she reached Simon's home, she paused, taking a deep, steadying breath.

_I'm not human anymore, I'm a shadowhunter. I'm a shadowhunter and I'm a woman, and I'm not afraid of vampires or men…or making a fool of myself._ Isabelle smiled ruefully. _I won't make a fool of myself. _

Carefully, she approached the door and knocked steadily. At first, she heard nothing, and she scowled before pounding harder on the door. If Simon thought he could ignore her, he had another thing coming; she could break this door down now. Her second knock elicited a heavy sigh from within, and she heard footsteps coming her way.

_Alright Simon_-

"Maia?" Isabelle said, flabbergasted, as the werewolf girl opened the door.

"Hey, Izzy, didn't think I'd see you here," Maia said, not unkindly. "How's shadowhunter life treating you these days?"

"Better than human life," said Isabelle, recovering quickly. She glanced down the street, hoping to be casual, but she knew Maia was far too shrewd to think she'd just stopped by for a friendly chat. "Is Simon here?"

"Yes," said Maia, smiling wickedly. "I think he's been tearing himself apart, trying to decide if he should come speak to you or wait."

"He _what_?" snarled Isabelle.

Maia raised her eyebrows. "Not what you were expecting to hear, I see."

Isabelle lost her temper, and all sense of shadowhunter decorum, at once. "I have been _scared senseless_ for the last _three weeks_ that Simon never wanted to see me again! Have been _racking my mind_ trying to figure out how I could approach him! It's been making me sick, I've been so worried, and you're telling me-," Isabelle's voice fell to a deadly whisper, "-you're telling _me_, that all this time, Simon has been playing some game?"

"No," said Maia, back-tracking fast. "No, not like that. He's just been…well, you know how he is about being a proper gentleman and all."

"Proper gentleman my foot-"

"Isabelle!" Maia warned. "He has been arguing with himself ever since he heard about your Ascension, trying to decide if talking to you would even begin to fix the damage. He thinks you don't want to speak with him anymore."

"He's right about that," snapped Isabelle, tossing her hair back.

Maia's hand shot out and took Isabelle's forearm. "Listen to me. He thinks that now that you're a shadowhunter, you're too good for him."

"What?" Isabelle asked, truly confused. _He's the son of a _lord_, and I'm just a farmer's daughter. How could my being a shadowhunter change how we were born?_ "What?"

Maia chuckled. "I've been speaking with him, trying to convince him it didn't matter to you, but he's insisting that now that you're a shadowhunter like Clary and Jace, you won't have time for him, especially because he's a vampire."

"And why would that matter?" said Isabelle sharply.

"Well, Downworlders and shadowhunters haven't always gotten on so well in the past."

"It's ridiculous, is what it is. I was born as much a human as he was; what we are now doesn't change how we feel." Isabelle stamped her foot. "Simon's a fool."

"Maybe," agreed Maia, shrugging. "But I think he's madly in love with you, so as long as you're willing to settle for a fool, I don't foresee any difficulties."

"Well-well, what makes you think I feel that way?" Isabelle stuttered, blushing a little at Maia's very correct assumption. "I just wanted to see that-to see that Simon was well and-"

"You're not fooling me, you know?" Maia said simply. "I see you two, and I know what I see. You don't want to admit you love him, fine, be miserable. But, I'm telling you, Simon is in love with you, and you'd be a foolish woman to give that up."

Isabelle was quiet a long time before she finally said, "Almost as foolish as Simon?"

Maia winked. "Almost."

_Right, well, there's no point dragging point dragging this out anymore,_ thought Isabelle. _Might as well make a go of it. _"He's still here?"

"In the kitchen," said Maia, donning a cloak inside the door and stepping around Isabelle. "You might as well go speak to him before he runs. I'm sure he just heard everything we said."

"Brilliant," said Isabelle darkly, and then squared her shoulders and went to face Simon.

* * *

"What did you say the villagers called the demon?" Magnus asked, flicking through the pages of a very large tome. His strange eyes darted here and there, making Alec jealous. He had learned to read, but was not so practiced as the warlock, and he suspected he was more of a hindrance than a help. "I'm sure I've heard that name before."

"The Great Goddess, the Great Mother, I don't know…" Alec looked dismally around the library. "It seems like we could search for ten years and still not know who she is. There're more books in here than years I'll live."

Magnus snorted. "More than I will, too."

"The demon, though," said Alec, "she must be very old and powerful for the effect of her blood to be so strong on a shadowhunter."

"Yes," agreed Magnus, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "Yes, but there are countless demons, all of them old, all of them powerful, all of them within summoning."

Alec sighed. "We can't quit, Magnus. Jace and Clary are trapped there, and if the demon is using Jonathan, I'm sure they're in danger."

Magnus opened his eyes and looked meaningfully at Alec. "You still think they're alive?"

"Jonathan wouldn't kill Clary," said Alec thoughtfully, "and Clary wouldn't let Jace die. She loves him too much, and she's too resourceful. If Clary is alive, Jace is too."

"I think I might prefer being dead, to be honest," Magnus said. "The alternative is to live in a court full of demons, at the mercy of a mad king. The Angel only knows what has become of them."

Alec tried to push the thought of his friends away. "Have you spoken with Jocelyn recently?"

"She's devastated, but she'd never let on to anyone but Luke," Magnus sniffed, returning to the book. "She was hoping that this was her chance to set things straight with Clary; this was when her relationship with her daughter could finally begin. Having that torn away has taken quite a toll on her." Alec heard a definite note of despair in Magnus's voice and glanced up.

"I feel bad for her," Alec admitted after a long pause. "I know she wasn't a great mother, and I know Clary didn't really like her, but…I don't know. When I see her, sitting there, looking like the grounds been torn out from under her, I just can't help it."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Magnus said gently. "Jocelyn isn't a bad person inherently; she's made some mistakes, that's all."

Alec nodded. "You said she speaks with Luke often?"

Magnus snorted. "Of course she does. She's half in love with him, though she'd never admit it."

"Why?"

"She's afraid, as is the usual reason." Here, Magnus's eyes snapped up, meeting Alec's. "She doesn't want to have her heart broken, so she pretends it can't be. Protection, but at a price."

Alec considered his words before speaking, and he found words slipping out of him before he could draw them back. "When this is over-this war, I mean-can we go away?"

Magnus looked startled. "Go away?"

"I-I only meant that, well, this city is amazing, but I miss the life I had before; a peaceful life where I wasn't afraid the people I love were going to walk out the door and never come back. I know you like it here, but…well, I guess I was to _protect _the things I love." Alec's dropped his eyes, unable to hold the warlock's gaze.

"If you want to go, I certainly don't see why not," Magnus said indifferently. "One city is as much the same to me as another; I've seen plenty. Where would you want to go?"

Alec's heart burst at his words, and he felt himself expanding with elation. "I don't know. Anywhere. Anywhere away from all this chaos and war and death. I can still remember what it was like when I lived on our family farm, and I'd like something like that."

"I suppose the rest of your family would join us?" Magnus asked, looking closely at Alec. "Isabelle and Max."

This drew Alec up short, and he frowned. "It doesn't seem fair, does it?" When Magnus just looked more confused, Alec elaborated. "I mean that Isabelle is just starting her life, and she's got so much ahead of her. I can't take her away from that…and then there's Max. Max deserves to have a better life than the one he had. He could be a shadowhunter, too; he could have an education and a future."

"It doesn't mean you can't train him," Magnus reasoned. "I'm sure, assuming the best, that we could convince our Herondale friends to join us. I'm sure they could train Max."

"I just don't want to be the reason Max can't have a life," said Alec after a beat. "I never got to have a childhood, and he could be so much more than I am."

Magnus smiled faintly. "If you hadn't had the life you did, we never would have met each other, and I assure you, Alec, I'm grateful for that."

Alec smiled across the table at Magnus and felt that strange sense of mingled peace and excitement that had become commonplace around Magnus. It was as though he were comforted by the presence of the man he loved, but anticipated almost anything.

"I had always just assumed I would spend the rest of my life rather unhappily," Alec admitted. "I thought I would just inherit my parent's farm and live there. I never thought any of this could happen, and I never thought, when Isabelle, Max, and I were taken from our home, we would end up here."

"Life rarely turns out the way we expect it to," agreed Magnus and he stretched before standing and glancing about. "Speaking of Max, we should go get your brother. There's no more hope in finding the demoness here. We'd have as much luck asking Jonathan as we would finding it."

Alec had risen as well, but he stopped, smiling rather oddly. "Magnus, why don't we just ask?"

Magnus looked at him, confused. "Ask Jonathan? Yes, I suppose that might go over well. Do you think we should sent him a letter, or just go in person?"

"I _meant_," said Alec, narrowing his eyes. "That you said most demons can be summoned. What if we summoned a demon and just _asked _who she is? If the demon is that famous, that powerful, she must be heard of by the others."

"An interesting idea," agreed Magnus, "but with one slight problem. We're in _Alicante_, Alec. We're in the very citadel of the shadowhunters, the heart of heaven on earth. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to summon a demon here? Do you know how many laws I'd have to break?"

"But what does it matter?" said Alec quickly. "We don't stand a chance of fighting Jonathan if we don't know where he's drawing his strength from. Besides, I don't think we need to proclaim to the Clave what we're doing. We can go outside the city circle, into the surrounding forest, and you can summon a demon. I'm sure it'll know who she is."

"Certainty of being caught…small chance of success…" Magnus said contemplatively. "Why not?"


	12. Fox Hunt

**Hey, sorry this is a little late, but I had exams last week and got behind!**

Fox Hunt

Since his revelation about their shared experimentation, Jonathan had left Jace and Clary well enough alone. Where he spent his nights, Clary wasn't sure, but he hadn't been to see them in three days. She suspected that something of the demon nature kept him from needing sleep like a normal person might have, and that he was busy, plotting his next move against her and Jace and the Clave.

_He still doesn't know the Cup is missing, _Clary reminded herself constantly, _so he doesn't know the Clave is building an army. He'll be unprepared, he'll think he can just march into Alicante, but they'll be waiting for him._

The thought, though heartening, still raised a small cry of despair. Jonathan was her brother, after all, and he wasn't this way by his own design. If anyone was to blame, it was Valentine; he was the one who had lost his mind over Jocelyn, and he was the one who had poisoned Jonathan. He was the one who deserved to be punished.

_Valentine's children, Valentine's experiments…By the Angel, if he were alive today I would drag him before the Angel himself, even if it killed me, and make him answer for his crimes!_

Clary had mentioned this to Jace once or twice, and, though disgusted by Jonathan, he had to agree. She suspected that Jace was a little shocked as well at his own discovery about himself, because she would catch him every now and then looking at hands, tracing the veins in his hands and wrists. On their second evening alone, Jace had finally turned to Clary, his eyes wide and unsettled.

"Clary…what am I?"

Startled, Clary had stared a moment before answering simply. "You're Jace Herondale, the man I love."

"But _what am I_?" Jace pressed urgently. "I'm not a shadowhunter, I'm not even human; what Valentine did to me-what he did to us-what does it mean?"

Clary bit her lip. "I love you, Jace, and that's all that matters. What does it matter if we're not…well, if we're not completely the same as everyone else? You're my husband, and I will love you till the end of my life, and that will never change."

"I knew I shouldn't have asked you," he chuckled. "No matter what I tell you, no matter what I ever do, you'll always love me. You'll always tell me I'm perfect."

"You are," shrugged Clary, and she smiled at him. "Regardless, you and I are the same, we both have the blood of the Angel in us, and we will stay that way."

Jace smirked. "I bet Valentine was bursting at the seams for us to have a child."

"He's gone now," said Clary, "but what I wouldn't give for him to back. Just so he could answer for what he did."

"You mean Jonathan?" said Jace.

Clary nodded her head. "He was so selfish, so…_horrible_ to do what he did. He destroyed his own son just to make his wife prove she loved him. I wish he were alive just so I could _kill_ him."

Jace, who was sitting by the mantle, close enough to the fire to warm his hands, nodded Clary over to his side. She scrambled over and he draped an arm about her. "I think it's better he's dead. If he were alive, he'd be hunting us down still, but with Jonathan, there's still a chance of fixing it."

"You think we can fix it?" Clary asked suddenly.

"Yes," Jace said. "Yes, I think we can, but it's going to be difficult, and I can't say with any certainty that we'll come out unharmed. I think, though, that if we don't, no one else can stop him."

Clary slumped against his side. "When do you think he's coming for us?"

Jace looked about uncomfortably and his eyes found the window. He could see sunlight, but it was frail and dead, and he wondered if he would ever see the light of the sun again. "He said soon, but I suppose that could mean anything to him. At least he's feeding us."

It was true that Aline was still visiting them once a day, always coming with a tray of food. However, what they were more interested in was her recent foray into the religious following the Great Goddess. She had managed to convince the castle preacher that she was seeking salvation, and, as a woman, she quickly admitted to their ranks. So far, she had had to attend lessons, readings from the religious text, but she had not heard yet of the origin of the Great Goddess.

"They say she is the First Mother," Aline has said, seating herself before them, looking slightly ill. "That she sacrificed her first born to God, so that he would give her the strength and the courage to bear the children of the dark, who would come to this world to give us the freedom."

"Freedom?" Clary asked sharply. "What freedom."

"The freedom of choice," Aline whispered like a prayer. "They came to let us choose if we would follow the light or dark. The Light of courage and the Dark of slavery."

Clary and Jace shared a quick glance. _The Dark of slavery? _

"What else did they say?" Jace pressed gently.

A shiver passed through Aline, and she looked like she was going to be ill. "She wants to give freedom to the babies of Men, and she says that if we sacrifice our children, she will raise them back up, more powerful than ever before. She commands that a woman's first duty should be to bear children and to pass them to her."

"A demon who wants children?" Clary mused, thinking it over while Aline watched her carefully.

"What does it mean, miss?" Aline asked. "What are we going to do?"

Clary shook her head. "Jace and I have to figure out who she is first, but you're doing wonderful, Aline, absolutely, wonderful."

Aline brightened markedly at this, she twitched and a small smile turned her lips up. "You're gracious, miss."

Clary took Aline's hand in her and squeezed tightly. "You're fantastic, Aline, the bravest woman I know."

Jace winked at Aline. "That's high praise, Aline."

"Thank you, miss," she said, and then glanced over her shoulder. "When will the King return?"

Clary glanced to the door and back. "I haven't the faintest clue. He's been away for the last few days, but he said he'd come back. He said…" Clary didn't want to remember what he had said. _We have plans in a few day, and you'll want to be on your feet. _"He said we're to have entertainment."

Jace shot her a look, knowing that when she said _they were to have _entertainment, she meant they were going _to be _the entertainment. Aline, however, was either unaware, or she chose not to understand, because she just looked between them, looking solemn. After a few more minutes, Aline noticed how the light had shifted outside, and she jumped to her feet.

"I have a reading to attend," she said suddenly, looking slightly ill. "I-I have to go take a lesson about the Great Goddess."

Clary smiled wanly at her and nodded. "You're doing wonderful, Aline. Thank you."

Aline bowed, but her eyes were looking shadowed. She left quietly, a little forlorn, but very determined not to let them down. Clary watched her go and then turned to Jace, who was still a little unsettled about forcing Aline to join the religious following of a demon. He caught Clary's eye, but Clary gave him a look.

"There's no other way," said Clary before Jace could speak. "You know that if anyone has a chance of figuring out who the demon is, Jace , it's going to be Aline."

"I know it," Jace said uncertainly, "but I just don't want to hurt her anymore than she already is. She needs help, Clary, you must see that?"

"We'll get her all the help she needs when this war is over," said Clary stoutly, and her voice told Jace she didn't want to speak of it anymore.

They sat a bit more, watching the light change a bit, shifting past noon. They had just settled down to sit and sleep when Jace heard the distinct sound of footsteps. He sat up straighter, pushed Clary behind him, and watched the door. Clary thought he looked like a hunting hound on point, but when the door opened, he didn't lunge forward.

"Hello, pet," Jonathan said sweetly to Clary, appropriating the endearment rather cruelly. Clary glared at him from her place on the floor, but Jonathan hooked his foot through the chain and jerked it. Clary was thrown to the floor with a sharp cry of anger. "How have you been these last few days we've been apart? Has your arm gone to rights?"

Clary, who had landed on her arm, sat up. "Why are you here?"

"I told you I'd come back," Jonathan said, and then he noticed Jace, who was looking ready to pounce. "How now, little brother?"

"Never better," he said through his gritted teeth. "You finally decided to show your face?"

Jonathan's smile slipped a bit. "I knew you'd miss me. So, have you two recovered yourselves enough to make your way back to the court?"

Clary most defiantly wanted to say no, but she knew Jonathan wasn't really asking. "What do they want with us?"

"I told you, there would be entertainments," Jonathan said simply, he reached down and undid the chair that bound Clary to the wall. "You two will certainly be the center of attention." He unlinked Jace's chains and then pulled them roughly to their feet.

"Right now?" Clary asked suspiciously. "Last time it was quite a production."

Jonathan laughed darkly. "Oh now, trust me, you won't want to be running around in costumes today. It will quite ruin it all."

"Ruin what?" Jace asked carefully as Jonathan pushed them from the room and out toward the hall and the castle proper.

"Just wait and see, little brother, wait and see."

Jonathan led Jace and Clary back down toward the main hall, but instead of entering, he took them around to the doors. The moment they opened, Clary drew back a little as the light poured in. She glanced over and saw that Jace, in the light of the dying sun, was drained of color, paler than snow. He seemed almost ill.

"Come along, now," Jonathan said cheerily. "Out into the open air for a little stroll through the park."

Not speaking, Jace and Clary followed Jonathan down the steps and out of the castle and into the gardens, still trapped in the grasp of winter. A few of the flowers that might have bloomed were frozen solid, the tree bark sparkling, and the ground frozen solid. Across from them, near the edge of the open ground where the tree line loomed up, was the court. Clary was disconcerted to see that many of them had horses, and the three headed hound Jonathan kept at his side was prowling about.

As they approached, Jonathan spoke. "Hello, again, my lord and ladies!" They hissed and snarled, cheering and pounding their feet. "I hope you're all up for a bit of fun. I trust you all remember my honored guests?"

A few of the demons drew nearer at the scent of fresh blood, and the one who had pinned Jace down stepped up, smiling so that her tongue fell out. Jace frowned in return and drew closer to Clary. Jonathan, though, pushed them forward and the demons howled with pleasure.

"I thought this evening we might have a game of rousing sport," Jonathan continued, and his hands crept up Jace and Clary's neck, holding them stiffly. "I'm sure you've heard of a fox hunt, but where's the sport in that? A fox is just a dumb animal."

_Oh, no, _thought Clary, her stomach doing small flips. _This isn't good._

"So I thought: what if we give the fox a brain and an hour's head start?" Jonathan proclaimed, and the court cheered. "Now that Clary and Jace have so graciously agreed to be our foxes, I dare say we can have an entertaining evening."

"You can't do this," said Jace under his breath, watching the demons carefully. "If they catch us, they'll kill us. Then where will you be?"

Jonathan pretended not to hear him, but said: "Now, I know you're all a little anxious for a taste of fresh meat, but I must impress upon all of you that our foxes are just for show. There will be no killing them." A few the demons scowled, but they said nothing more to it. "However, I promise to reward whichever of you catches them with something just as good. _But, _if after a day, none of us have caught the blighters, we'll reward them instead. That's fair, right?"

"Jonathan-" began Clary, but he ignored her.

"So, I think we'll give Clary and Jace an hour's head start, enough time to vanish into the forest before me make our move. That's fair, isn't it?"

Clary, shaking terribly, didn't hear the agreements the demons cried back, she didn't feel the pressure of Jonathan hand leave her neck, and she didn't hear Jace telling her to run, grabbing her hand, and pulling her away. All she could feel was the pounding of blood in her veins, the mounting terror that they would be caught, and the horrible thought of what would happen when they were.

Jace, tugging Clary along, was thinking in a panicked state about where they were supposed to hide. _The park is large, but not enough that we could find a place to stay for a night._ The sun was setting fast now, and Jace cursed Jonathan for choosing now for his game. Soon the forest would be in shadow, and though he and Clary could both see well in the dark, the demons were going to be in their element. He veered into a thicket, trying to collect his thoughts and make a plan. At his side, Clary was looking lost.

"Clary, how well do you know the park?"Jace asked, giving her a small shake. She stared at him blankly, watching the last rays of sunlight fade away, leaving them in the semi-darkness of evening. "_Clary_?"

"I-I don't," she said, stuttering terribly. "I was never allowed to go out on the fox hunts without Jonathan, and he never let me wander that far."

"But is there a place that's more protected than the others? A cave or an alcove that might offer us a bit of protection?"

"By the river…" Clary mumbled, thinking hard. "By the river there's a cave, but we'll have to double back toward the demons."

Jace looked thoughtful, biting his lip. "If we move fast, there's a bit of daylight still life. We could reach the river, use the water to cover our scent…"

It was the best plan they had, so Jace took Clary's hand again, leading her with a strong grip, back the way they had come. A small part of him was worried that taking Clary back toward her brother was asking for trouble, but he needed to get her away. He needed to get her somewhere safe and hunker down for the evening. Around him, the sounds of birds were fading away, their voices drifting into evening.

_The demons, the birds can sense the demons, _thought Jace as he ran.

It must have been true, because, almost as soon as Jace and Clary reached the gorge where the river cut through the park, a horn sounded in the dark. "They're coming!" Clary cried, and then she tugged free of Jace and began scrambling down the gorge toward the river.

"Clary!" Jace rasped, wondering if the demon were already searching for sign of them. "Clary, be careful."

"Get down here!" Clary snapped, her eyes wide and dilated. "Get down here before the demons find us."

Jace watched, rather impressed while a terrified Clary maneuvered the steep, rock ledge with remarkable dexterity. She hit the rocky bank with a light thump and cast herself into the river, effectively dousing her scent. Jace was a few steps behind her, but he quickly followed her into the icy stream. Clary's eyes were scanning the bank frantically, searching for the cave, but as the night fell deeper and deeper, it became harder to see. It was as if the demon in Jonathan was stretching out its hand and covering the land in darkness. Not even the light of stars or moon shone through the dark.

"I can't see," Clary hissed over the sloshing of the river. "I can't see a thing."

Jace cursed. "We have to find a place to hide. Is there anywhere else-"

Jace's words were cut off by a horrible sound, a sound that made the blood in both Clary and Jace freeze. It was a howling, cawing, cacophonous racket, and it echoed through the trees, coming nearer and nearer. Then, like the sound the thunder, the hooves of horses pounding the earth.

"They're on us!" Clary rasped.

"Get into the shadows of the wall," Jace ordered, and the two left the river and clambered over the back and into the shadows of the gorge wall. Jace pressed Clary against it and then covered her with himself. "Don't make a sound," he whispered, and then ducked his face against her neck.

It was a few minutes before the sound of the hooves drew near enough for the feelings of sickness and cold to reach them. When they did, though, Clary thought she might be physically ill. A few loose stones fells down the gorge when the demons' hoses drew up to the ridge. Clary felt her heart stopping, and against her, Jace's breath hissed.

"You sure you scented them this way?" asked a voice like ice. Below them, Clary was suppressing the urge to run, helped along by Jace's very heavy body. "I don't see anything but a river."

"I'm not _confused_," said the other voice, and then there was the sound of heavy snuffling, like a person was trying to breathe through a very a stuffed up nose. "It's this ruddy human nose, it hardly works."

"Well, get rid of it," answered the other demon as if this were the obvious answer. "It's not like it matters to you. Soon enough, we won't have to hide ourselves in these disgusting bodies. Once Jonathan and the Mother tear those pathetic shadowhunters apart, we will be free to do as we please. No one will stand in our way."

_Mother…the demons even call her mother,_ Jace wondered but there was more.

"What I don't understand," said the other demon with the bad nose, "is why the master keeps those Angel get around. I smell them all over the palace, in the garden, in the halls, in the bedrooms and libraries…it makes me sick. I just want to sink my teeth into that Angel boy."

Jace's eyes widened.

"I saw you at the masquerade," laughed the other.

"It's his blood," panted the demon, and his voice was oddly muffled. "It the sweetest thing I've ever smelled, like a _real_ angel."

"I know what you mean," said the other, and the horses drew closer to their spot. "I don't understand _why_ Jonathan won't let us have a taste of them."

"You know he fancies them, though why, I'll never know," answered its companion. "He keeps them in his room, _playing_ with them. But still…the girl I get, she's a pretty thing. But the boy, why keep the boy to himself?"

The demons laughed and the one who had first mentioned Jace spoke again. "If you ask me, I don't think he's very interested in them for the conversation. I think he just wants to have some toys for afters. You know, once we finish off the Angel's people, it'll be just those two. He'll need someone to keep him company when it's all over."

"But why keep the _boy_?" the demon demanded. "Why can't we have him? I understand that he wants to the girl for his own uses, you know how he looks at her, but that boy could be fun. We could play with him since we can't have the girl."

"You think he wants him for that too?" asked the demon.

"For what?"

"For…well, for why he wants the girl."

"No," chuckled the other. "No, he just wants someone to keep him busy during the day. The girl is for the night."

They both shared a laugh and a small whine escaped Clary's mouth. Luckily, the horses had spooked at the sound of the laughter and they had panicked, sending a small cascade of stones down into the gorge. Jace clapped a hand over Clary's mouth, giving her a very hard look. After a moment where the demon calmed the horses, the one with the nose snorted.

"Ah well, we won't get anywhere if we can't find those little Angel children. Let's see what I can do with this…" There was a horrible sound, like nothing Clary had every really heard before, and then something flew over the edge of the gorge. "That's better. Alright, let's go this way."

Clary and Jace remained pressed against the wall, their hearts beating erratically and their minds buzzing with what they had just heard. After some time, Clary moved a little, letting Jace know she had recovered a bit of her strength.

_We could play with him…_Clary shuddered against Jace and realized that in her terror, she had forgotten Jace was far more vulnerable than she was. Jonathan _wanted _her for himself, but Jace was just there as an addition. _I need to get him safe, safe for the rest of the night. I just need to get him safe._

Clary pushed him gently and he took a step back into the light. His face did indeed look paler than usual, and his eyes seemed more motile than usual, but his face was very even. "We'll go into the woods," Clary said firmly. "We'll climb up a tree and hide there for the night. They won't be expecting us to go up a tree in the condition we're in."

"We'll travel by the river," agreed Jace, but he was watching Clary closely, knowing what she had heard. "Take my hand and don't let go."

Jace tucked Clary against his side, but when she stepped out into the light, she saw, bloody and torn, the nose of the person the demon had torn off. She stared in horror for a moment, and then doubled up and vomited. Jace rubbed her back, telling her it was going to be okay and they had to move, but Clary shivered and retched a bit more before finally drawing herself up. After, they slipped away, using the river to mask their scent and vanished into the forest.

* * *

"Simon?" Isabelle asked softly, glancing about uncertainly as she entered the kitchen. There was the sound of a chain moving, but Isabelle was much faster. "Simon, you can't run from me now. I'm a shadowhunter."

A curse under someone's breath and then Simon moved into the light. He was looking faintly ill to see her, but there was some small light in his eyes, almost like hope. "Isabelle?"

"Who else would it be?" she asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Simon looked in a right state, especially for a vampire. His hair hung lankly into his dull eyes, he looked like he hadn't fed in many days, and his face was sallow, not its usual snowy white. "Are you alright?" Isabelle asked in shock, drawing nearer.

Simon staggered back. "No, Isabelle, not right now. I-I haven't eaten in many days and I'm not sure I can trust myself around you. Please, just stay on the other side of the table."

Isabelle blinked, wondering if Simon could really be taken serious when he was just standing there looking ready to collapse. "Okay, Simon, but-but you've to listen to me. I've got something important to say and-"

"I know what you want to say, but please, hear me out," Simon began. "I know how you must feel since…well, since I did what I did, but I'm begging you to understand why. So-so, I want you to know that I think you're the most amazing person I've ever met, and the most stunning woman I've ever seen. I think I love you, but I know that if I did, I would want to spend every waking moment around you, and that's not possible because of what I am."

What Isabelle had expected Simon to say, that wasn't it, so she just stared at him. "You love me?"

Simon fidgeted. "Well, I…well, yes, yes I do." He saw the look on her face and looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Isabelle asked sharply. "What are you sorry about?"

"That I love you," Simon murmured.

For a moment, there was silence between them, then Isabelle darted around the table, grabbed Simon's hands and pulled him against her. Before Simon could protest, he found her lips pressed against his in a passionate kiss. Carefully, aware that Isabelle was within his grasp, he took her arms and held them at arm's length. "Isabelle, we can't do this."

"We _are _doing this, and we're going to _continue _doing this," Isabelle said firmly. "And I don't care that you're a vampire, and I don't care that you might be dangerous, and I don't care that you drink blood. You're the sweetest man I've ever met, and I'm not leaving you for all this nonsense about you being dangerous."

Simon was still holding her away, but his will was wavering. "I could attack you."

"And I could attack you," said Isabelle with a pleased look. "That's the good thing about being a shadowhunter. I can handle myself around a vampire with designs on me."


End file.
